


Every Choice

by beskar_kyber15



Series: Every Choice [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Chiss (Star Wars), Chiss Ascendancy (Star Wars), Clone Troopers Speak Mando'a (Star Wars), Crimson Dawn (Star Wars), Darth Maul Has His Lower Half, Death Watch (Star Wars), Eventual Smut, F/M, Gen, Jedi Maul (Star Wars), Light BDSM, Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Mild Language, Oral Sex, Order 66 Aftermath (Star Wars), Pre-Order 66 (Star Wars), Slavery, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beskar_kyber15/pseuds/beskar_kyber15
Summary: Every choice you have made...has led you to this moment.What if fate and destiny still weaved their threads into Maul becoming leader of Crimson Dawn...but was a Jedi?
Relationships: Darth Maul/Original Character(s), Darth Maul/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Every Choice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065593
Comments: 29
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as something completely different but has evolved into my Mandalorian's backstory for MMCC. My Jedi Maul is based off of the wonderful fan artwork done by @/kaurizz on IG and @/scuttlebuttin on Tumblr!
> 
> (any Mando'a used will be translated in the endnotes of each chapter)

"No Dex." Verita threw a good-natured, but well-placed, elbow into Dexter Jettster's side as he once again tried to take the dishes away from her.

"You let me live here AND make me delicious meals, the least I can do is clean up." She snapped the rag menacingly near the besalisk's face and he backed away from the tiny human, grumbling to himself.

"You shouldn't hafta do all that work after coming back from classes-"

"Dex, the semester doesn't start until next month so I'm fine. It keeps me busy and helps you out...consider it my rent payment for letting me stay above the diner if it makes you feel any better." 

"It doesn't," he muttered, but Verita saw the twitches of a smile form around the alien's fleshy mouth and he left her alone to finish the dishes in a companionable silence.

When the last dish was stacked onto the rack, Dex stirred. Standing from a chair in Verita's small living quarters, he stretched his four arms out wide, nearly touching the walls on either side of him and said, "Guess I must've been more tired than I thought."

"That's because you work too hard Dex," Verita said, crossing the room to give the alien a hug. He wrapped his arms around her short human frame and chuckled slightly, the sound reverberating against Verita's chest.

"Alright you scoundrel, off with you. I'll see you tomorrow morning for opening shift."

"You don't-" Dex began again, but stopped at Verita's lifted finger.

"Again, consider it an advancement in rent...when school starts I'll be too busy for anything else. This way, you can remember all the work I put in beforehand when you're short-handed and grumbling about the music above the diner," she said with a grin.

"Alright girl, consider it a deal. Bright and early tomorrow...don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

***

Hermione Bagwa looked shocked when Verita showed up the next morning and declared she had been hired by Dex to work the diner for the next month or so. FLO for her part, was a droid, and the only thing she said when Verita introduced herself was a grumbled "finally" and pointed to a storage closet where Verita found a wrinkled, but clean, uniform.

From that point, everything was a blur. Verita had never been in a diner where so much chaos was handled with a control and ease that she felt certain stemmed from Dex's four arms and that his skeleton staff had seen so much weirder during their employment in the Coruscanti diner. For her part, Verita did her best to keep up, not trip or get underfoot, and only messed up one order during the breakfast rush as diners and dashers fueled up for another workday on the city-planet.

When the last patron had left (a disgruntled Senator's aide from Malastare), Verita looked around, saw the diner was empty, and sat down heavily on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen.

"First time?" Hermione asked, sidling up next to her.

"Yeah. I mean...I'm on my feet all day for classes, but this is a whole new category of crazy," Verita said with a smile.

Hermione chuckled. "Just wait until dinner. Lunch is usually more of a grab-and-go, but dinner customers are on a whole different level."

Verita groaned good-naturedly and was smiling as she turned toward the diner's now-opening door.

Her smile froze in place.

A hooded figure had stepped through the door. The dark brown robes and cream tunic marked him as Jedi and, as he walked further inside, pulled back the hood. Next to her, Verita felt Hermione shrink back and suck in a breath.

The man was marked with red and black tattoos and his head encircled with what almost looked to be a crown of horns. His eyes were blue, a striking contrast to the dark markings of his skin, and they flickered toward the two women before settling almost introspectively back into himself. Taking long strides, he settled himself into the booth furthest from the door and faced it, eyes flickering with what looked to be an internal dialogue with himself, the tattoos above his eyes furrowing in concentration.

Verita looked over at Hermione, who shook her head slightly.

_Guess it's up to the newbie then._

Straightening, she strode over to the Jedi. As she got closer, she saw the glint of his lightsaber clipped to his belt. Verita hadn't met any Jedi but knew that his was unusually long for a traditionally single-bladed weapon and wondered at it.

"Welcome to Dex's Diner-"

"Kaf. Black." he grunted and Verita snapped her mouth closed, shock and a flash of irritation running through her.

Putting on a saccharine smile, she ground out, "Right away _Master Jedi_." The Jedi in question snapped his eyes toward her but she was already striding away, shoulders back, teeth set.

Walking through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, Verita nearly screamed as Hermione jumped at her.

"What did he say? What does he want?"

Verita snorted. "Kaf. Black," she mimicked the deep tone of the Jedi, an air of pompous sarcasm lacing the words.

Hermione covered her mouth to stifle a giggle and Verita's lips twitched slightly as she grabbed a clean ceramic mug and large pot of kaf she had brewed a few minutes prior to the Jedi coming in.

"I’ve never seen a Jedi like him before..." Hermione murmured as Verita hefted the tray to her shoulder.

Pushing the door outward, she said over her shoulder, "He's a Zabrak...a Nightbrother of Dathomir from the looks of those tattoos."

"I wonder what he's doing-" Hermione's voice was cut off abruptly as the door swung shut.

Walking back to where the Zabrak sat seemingly unmoving from his initial position, Verita plunked the mug down in front of him and had a small twinge of satisfaction as he jumped slightly.

"Your kaf Master Jedi," she said smoothly, pouring the dark liquid into the mug. She felt his gaze boring into the side of her skull and was thankful for the curtain of hair hiding her face.

Straightening up from the table, she looked directly into his light eyes and said, "Anything else?"

"Yes..." The word was drawn out softly, a sibilant hiss, and Verita suppressed an involuntary shudder as white incisors flashed into view.

"Tell me, how do you know about my people?"

Verita let out a huff of relieved laughter at the question.

"Holovids and books mostly." She shrugged. "My Family was hoping that I'd come to Coruscant to be a senator's aide so they wanted to prepare me for any and all species I may be assigned to work with. Your cousins on Iridonia came up and I did a little bit of my own reading on their more...ah _colorful_ relatives."

He actually chuckled at that, a small sound from deep within his chest, and Verita had the feeling the sound didn't occur often in this man, especially as the war had begun to escalate and more and more Jedi were being sent into battle.

He leaned back in the booth a bit, arms stretching out across the back, and Verita couldn't help but notice the way his tunic pulled against his chest. He was really quite handsome, but in the way you'd find a feral varactyl beautiful: flashy but could easily snap your arm off before you could blink. An aura of danger and allure roiled off of him in waves and Verita idly wondered if that was this Jedi's personality or if he was using a Force trick. Either way, when he gestured toward the empty seat across from him, she didn't refuse, settling onto the edge and remaining mindful of the door and pointedly ignoring Hermione and FLO's faces peeking out from above the food service window.

Leaning forward, the Zabrak grabbed the mug and took a sip of the kaf. Verita noticed that his hands were patterned in the same red and black markings as his face and wondered just how extensive the artwork was and whether it was genetic or if Zabrak children were marked from a young age.

"You mentioned that your parents wanted you to become a senator's aide..." his lips pulled into a sardonic smile as he looked around the diner, "Hardly the Upper Levels..."

"Why the interest?" Verita snapped, suddenly defensive of Dex and the diner. "As far as I've been able to tell, the Jedi only concern themselves with the Senate and their own ivory tower dealings, never mind the 'common' people they're supposedly keepers of the peace for."

The words came out harsher than she anticipated and she watched as the Zabrak's face shuttered and leaned back, all trace of humor gone. His face had become a blank slate and Verita wondered if she had pushed too far.

They sat there, staring silently at each other for the space of a few heartbeats.

"I'm sor-"

"You're right-"

They spoke simultaneously and Verita stopped, mouth agape. His words were barely audible, spoken in the heavy way when deep emotion and a burdened heart were finally ready to release a long-overdue weight.

The Zabrak expelled a huff of air, running his hand over his head reminiscent of the way humans ran theirs through hair and Verita watched in silence as he brought his forearms to rest on the table between them. In the span of that movement, his gaze had gone from shuttered to blazing and Verita drew back a bit at the intensity.

"You're right," he repeated, voice dark. "The Jedi are meant to be peacekeepers of the Republic and those we protect...instead we're drawn into the middle of a war and our focus has been elsewhere...away from those we proclaim to serve and towards those who would only use those below for their own gain." His lips twisted in what was almost a snarl and Verita heard the dark humor behind his words.

"I suppose that's why I'm here. I was feeling lost and had been meditating when I felt the Force tell me to get up off my ass and get outside. Suppose it wanted me to meet you and consider out loud what I've been wrestling with for a while."

He said it with no trace of sarcasm or guile and Verita felt herself warming toward the Zabrak, although she felt a sliver of suspicion at his sudden candor. Admissions like that, especially from strangers, rarely came without a price and while Verita wasn't ready to give up all her Sabacc cards, she was willing to let one out...or at least part of the truth...from a certain point of view.

"You're not wrong. This," she gestured around the diner, "is only temporary. I'm actually going to be attending the Galactic Dance Academy next month to train."

The Zabrak's eyeridges rose slightly in surprise and Verita couldn't help but chuckle quietly.

"I know right? One wouldn't think that a human could be a dancer at that level, but I received a scholarship after I secretly applied. My Family was less than thrilled but they let me come with the understanding that I was on my own. I met Dex a few days after my arrival and when he heard what I was doing and why I was here, he gave me the apartment above the diner. He said that someone had been kind to him in the past when he needed it most and had been hoping to return the favor one day as the Force allowed. I'm working the diner as a way for me to repay him. He's been nothing but kind...a rarity in this Maker-forsaken planet."

The Zabrak nodded slowly and Verita's gaze was suddenly pulled to a glint of silver on his left and saw a small earring high in the shell of his ear. It was such a small, everyday item, so uncommon and unexpected when she pictured the stiff and formal Jedi, that she couldn't help but smile.

To her surprise, he smiled back and it was one without any sarcasm or black humor behind it.

The bell to the front door rang, and a cadre of Toong walked in, chattering in their loud high-pitched voices.

Turning back to the Jedi, Verita grinned ruefully.

"Duty calls," she said, sliding to the end of the vinyl bench and standing. Cocking an eyebrow, she asked, "Can I get you anything else Master Jedi?"

He leaned back, arms stretching out wide. His gaze was steady as he said, "A name would be nice...strangers rarely share such information with each other and I think we're past that are we not?"

She eyed him carefully. In her experience, names had power and giving hers to a Jedi could tie them together in a way that Maker-only knew what would happen. 

Probably nothing good.

"Verita. And your name Master Jedi?"

"Verita." He rolled her name in his mouth like one would a sweet and Verita wondered how he felt about the taste.

"Verita. You may call me...Maul."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Verita gets nosy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited to share this next bit, I couldn't wait a week...from here on until it's finished, I'll be going to a one chapter posting either Friday evening or Saturday morning so if you want, you can hit subscribe to get updates on when the next chapter goes up! Hope you enjoy :)

Classes began a few days later and Verita had little time to contemplate her run-in with the Jedi Maul. Every night found her either flopping onto her bed, exhausted from the constant drills, forms, and rehearsals the Academy put her through for hours at a time, or practicing her routines after working the diner for a few hours. Dex complained that Verita was pushing herself too hard, but she simply smiled and shrugged. Between the fighting and flying, culture, and history lessons she had taken as a young girl, and then later on with her Family, the jumps her mind needed to make to transition in and out of her daily routines was almost second nature and she found herself falling into an almost comfortable rhythm.

***

“No. Absolutely not.” Dex folded his arms over himself and somehow made himself look twice as big as he usually did in Verita’s cramped living room.

“Dex-”

“No,” he repeated again, eyes beginning to narrow slightly. “You haven’t had a day off in weeks, you barely can keep your eyes open, and nearly spilled kaf on the ambassador to Vardos...you are going to go outside and just karking wander the city for Maker’s sake. I don’t care where you go, just as long as it isn’t here.”

“And what if I just go to the dance studio?”

"Verita…”

She raised her hands, “Kidding, kidding…” 

Shaking her head, Verita looked around her apartment. Dance clothes were scattered everywhere, pots and pans lay in the sink, unwashed from losing energy halfway through the day to take care of them and something was starting to grow in her disposal bin that she was almost too afraid to look closely at. She had been feeling out of sorts for weeks now, struggling to master the most basic movements that had been second nature and on more than one occasion heard her instructors off-handedly mention that dancers were easily replaceable.

_Maybe I do need a day. Besides, Bak'if's been breathing down my neck and I'm running out of excuses._

Keeping her face placid, Verita shrugged as she looked up at the alien and said solemnly, “Cross my heart Dexter Jettster, I will not go anywhere near the diner and the dance studio for a single day. Instead I will lose myself to frivolity and contemplating the universe’s existence.”

Dex snorted and Verita knew she was forgiven. Opening her door, Dex walked out and Verita followed, touching the keypad behind her to lock the door.

Once outside, Verita looked up at the Coruscant skyline. In a place teeming with so much life, there was a startling lack of it, and Verita found herself wandering to the nearest airbus location and asking where plants could be found on the city-planet.

If a droid could look surprised, this one did, but told her that the nearest living plants were to be found at the Jedi Temple and was open to visitors.

Handing over the credits, Verita settled into the plastoid seats and looked absentmindedly out of the transparisteel window. She had never been to the Jedi Temple, only seen the points of the five twisting spires from her apartment window, and the pillars themselves were visible from the Academy as she trained. As the towering spires loomed closer and closer, Verita felt a knot start to form in her stomach. She had never met a Jedi before Maul and knew about as much as the average citizen did coming to the city-planet: keepers of the peace and generals in the escalating war, but also fearsome warriors or skilled diplomats as the situation required. They sounded as temperamental as the hyperlanes of her home and Verita wondered as the bus settled at the foot of an imposing marble stairway, whether she would be allowed in or simply thrown out on her _sheb_ without so much as an apology.

Swallowing hard, she began the seemingly endless climb to the top. As she walked, her eyes raked over the towering statues flanking either side of the stairs. They were a mix of species, some she recognized, others she didn't, and assumed that they were all former Jedi of some renown. They seemed to stare at her as she ascended and Verita got the sneaking feeling that they were sentient, or maybe it was just her own paranoia seeing threats where there were none.

Hurrying up, she reached the public doors to the Temple and looked at the guards flanking the doorway. Ornate armor covered every inch of their body, hiding any features distinguishing species or gender, and one of them tilted their head down slightly at Verita. 

“Umm...I’m ah-” words were failing her and she stumbled for a moment, remembered her training, straightened, and said, “I’m looking for the Jedi...Archives.”

Gesturing wordlessly, the sentinel waved a hand and the massive and seemingly impossible doors opened in front of her and Verita stepped forward into the dark...and into a cavernous room filled with all the secrets of the galaxy.

Mouth agape, she spun in a slow circle, taking in the massive towering shelves, all full of the same soft blue light. Her Family had whispered stories of the hidden knowledge the Jedi possessed but even in her wildest dreams hadn’t imagined the sheer scope and scale of the information the galaxy could even offer. Jedi of all species and ages wandered softly through the aisles and Verita saw one of them actually _lift_ the blue light out of its place and into their hand. Once it touched flesh, the shape solidified into a glowing blue cube with filigreed markings. 

“They’re Holocrons.”

Verita jumped. She hadn’t noticed that someone had sidled up to her in her perusing and mentally berated herself; she was trained better than that. Focusing fully on the speaker, she looked to see that it was an older woman, her robes a slight tan and marked with runes Verita didn’t recognize. She was looking expectantly up at Verita (no mean feat since Verita was barely over five feet tall), and realized that the woman was waiting for her to answer.

“A...holocron you said?”

The woman nodded and Verita presumed she was the librarian as she continued. “Ancient artifacts that contain a multitude of knowledge and only accessible by the Jedi...however, for those seeking knowledge outside of our Order, there are ways we can help. Come." She gestured toward one of the many desks that lay scattered throughout the room and Verita saw that each was outfitted with a holoscreen and a small square indentation in front of it.

The librarian stopped at an unoccupied corner of the room and gestured for Verita to sit. Folding her hands primmly in front of her and said, "My name is Jocasta Nu and I am the Archivist here...now, what can I help you with my dear?"

Looking into the woman's face, Verita saw no trace of guile or deception in it. This Jedi would not have kept this position for this long if privacy wasn't of the utmost importance and for what Verita was searching for, she needed all the assurance she could get.

"Any and all files you have on the Unknown Regions, the species that live there and...Dathomir and their inhabitants."

If Jocasta Nu thought Verita's choices strange and oddly specific, she didn't say, merely tilted her head and moved away with barely a whisper of air. She was back in less time than Verita had to look around and make sure she was alone. A small satchel sat on her hip and when Jocasta Nu reached in, she pulled out a holocron. Placing it gently into the indentation in front of Verita, she watched as it slowly sunk into the desk and the holoscreen lit up with signs, symbols, and script.

"Merely press this button when you are finished and the holocron will come out," the Archivist said, setting the bag next to Verita's elbow with a small thump. "When you are finished, press this button and leave the bag, one of the younglings will be along to collect it. Also...a word of warning: these holocrons are protected by many wards from a time long forgotten and would-be thieves would do well to contemplate the severity of the consequences in stealing from the Jedi." 

Verita suppressed a small shiver at the sharpness in the Archivist's voice. While she wouldn't have dreamed of trying to steal from the Jedi, the fact that someone had tried made her wonder under what circumstances one would attempt such a foolhardy maneuver.

Smiling tightly up at the Jedi, she said, "Understood," and turned toward the screen.

***

Vertia’s head was swimming and realized this was a huge mistake. She definitely should have just sat outside in the gardens and then gone to one of Coruscant’s many bars and lounges to while the night away and maybe find some company for the night instead of being up to her elbows trying to erase her Family’s history.

_Maybe the Aristocra were wrong. Maybe they don’t have any useful stories about the Chiss._

Straightening from her hunched position, Verita rolled her neck, relishing in the release of tension with the cracks and pops, and looked around. The library was almost empty, save for a few wandering younglings and the ever-present Jocasta Nu. No one had come to check on her since the Archivist had left the Holocrons, but Verita knew that she was being monitored very carefully, which had made altering the holocrons an incredibly painstaking and tricky task. It wasn’t impossible but it was similar to convincing a sentient being to do something they really didn’t want: lots of persuading, retyping, and reconfiguring had gone into each holocron and Vertia was feeling like she had gone seven rounds with a gundark by the time she had finished the last one.

Setting it next to the satchel with the other completed ones, she turned and looked at the remaining holocron in the bag. It was stupid, she knew, to be looking into a Jedi she hardly knew and had met once, but Verita hadn’t been able to get the Jedi Maul out of her mind since her run-in a few months ago. Maybe it was some sort of stupid Force trick, but Verita was intrigued by the fact that a Nightbrother had been able to leave the planet and train with the Jedi. Traditionally, the Nightsisters were incredibly protective over the Zabraks (Nightbrothers as they were known on Dathomir) to the point of violence; treating them like breeding stock and entertainment and very unwilling to let the Jedi anywhere near the blood-red swamp planet. Verita wondered how it had happened and figured the best place to start was at the source. Sliding in the holocron, she began to read.

***

Stepping out into the stale city air, Verita hadn’t realized just how late it had gotten. The city planet was never dark thanks to the constant traffic and buildings, but the sky above had become a navy that was beginning to illuminate the city, a mockery of the clear night sky Verita had experienced on Csilla. Nodding to the sentinels that were still standing at the doorway (Verita wasn't sure if they were the same ones or not), she began the walk down the steps and to the bus stop.

Once onboard, she settled back into the seat and thought about her findings. It wasn’t much. Thankfully, the Jedi had little to no information on the Chiss and Unknown Regions, but what they did have Verita had altered and tweaked so that hyperlanes seemed impassable, planets were in the wrong spots, and all mention of sky-walkers had disappeared forever.

On the Maul front, she had been mildly more successful. The holocron had confirmed her initial findings regarding the matriarchal nature of the planet, but had also given the interesting tidbit that the Nightsisters themselves were considered heretics by many of the planet’s other inhabitants and Maul’s particular sect of Nightbrothers just happened to be the unfortunate village closest to their fortress spanning their planet-wide influence. Those that escaped and managed to find passage off-planet often quickly resettled into other corners of the galaxy and Maul seemed to have been one of the lucky ones. Public records indicated that he was the oldest of three brothers; both of whom were residing on a planet called Sorgan, a little backwater of no interest to anybody and Vertia figured it was as safe a place to be from Force-hunting witches.

The bus shuddered to a stop and Verita saw it was her turn. Clambering down the ramp, she stepped off and into the darkened street. In the light of day, the lower levels weren’t so bad; fewer shadows for those to hide behind, but at night, Vertia could sense the malice that seemed to ooze out from behind every corner. Striding toward the direction of the diner, Vertia’s eyes flickered up and down, back and forth over every surface and potential ambush spot. She walked with enough confidence and an expression she had learned from her sister to dissuade any potential trouble. 

She was almost to the diner when a figure suddenly stepped out in front of her. The streetlights were dim, but Verita could make out the reptilian body of a Trandoshan, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. 

“What have we here? All alone are we?” An oily chuckle rasped from the lizard’s throat and Verita heard scuffing behind her that indicated another had joined the Trandoshan. 

Tilting her head slightly, she smiled at the lizard. “You seem to have caught me gentlemen. What can I do for you?”

“Turn out your pockets and give us all your credits...or we’ll find another way for you to pay us.”

The voice had come from behind her and it was decidedly less pleasant than the reptile standing in front of her. Hands on her hips, Verita began, “I don’t think-” and before she had finished, a vibroblade whipped out of existence underneath her oversized tunic and was flung behind her. There was a thump and a howl and Verita knew she had at least hit something painful. Wheeling, her other blade held at the ready, and she saw that the first had hit slightly above and to the right of the second Trandoshan’s heart.

_Shab._

Not hesitating, Verita leapt at the lizard and they went down in a flurry of arms, legs, and hissing. Vertia sincerely hoped that her movements had thrown the other Trandoshan off-balance long enough to finish the first as she sunk the second blade directly into the Trandoshan’s glowing eye.

He howled, a screeching sound that vibrated in Verita’s ears, but she ground her teeth and twisted the knife deeper. The screeching turned to a choked gurgle and Vertia suddenly felt herself lifted up and off the ground, arms pinned behind her in a vise. Clearly these two weren’t as stupid as they had first appeared and Vertia twisted ruthlessly, trying to break the lizard’s iron grip. 

The first Trandoshan managed to pick himself up off the ground and began limping toward them, eye socket dripping, both knives still embedded in his body.

“You little bitch,” he hissed and an electric crackle filled the air and Verita’s blood turned cold. They weren’t going to kill her, they were going to sell her off for the highest price and that was a hell she would not stand for.

Twisting even harder, she ignored the screaming of her joints and ligaments and tried desperately to block out the reptilian laughter filling her ears. The crackling of the stun baton only added to her frustration and fear made an iron taste fill her mouth as the weapon drew closer, closer…

A snap-hiss broke the rhythm of sound and Verita saw the tip of a gleaming yellow blade suddenly pierce through the Trandoshan in front of her. He looked down, as if surprised that he was dead, and then dropped to the ground. In his place stood a Jedi and, as the weapon was brought to bear in attack position Vertia saw under the hood, red and black markings illuminated by the glow of the blade.

_Maul._

The Trandoshan that had been holding her threw Vertia to the ground and she scrambled to the side, out of the way of the gleaming yellow saber and the man who wielded it. 

Instead of attacking, the Trandoshan looked fearfully at Verita, his partner, and Maul. Deciding that it wasn’t worth picking a fight with a Jedi, he slunk away, quickly swallowed by the city shadows.

Maul watched him disappear and then turned back to Verita. Realizing that the Trandoshan had given up the moment he had let go of her, Verita had scrambled toward his fallen partner and began cleaning her vibroblades on the fallen alien's shirt. 

"Are...are you alright?" he said gruffly and Verita heard a note of surprise in his voice, most likely due to the fact that she wasn't curled into a fetal position on the ground like any sane human would be after an assault like that.

Standing, she placed the blades back into their hidden sheaths at her side and looked at the Jedi. Maul's eyes glowed faintly from underneath his hood, but unlike her attackers, his were alight with concern and a small bit of bemusement as he watched the knives disappear.

"Hardly the weapons of a dancer," he observed and Verita couldn't help but make a small noise of amusement.

"Hardly the weapons of a fool."

"Indeed." He made a sound in the back of his throat that may have been a laugh and stepped to Verita's side. 

"The diner is nearby, yes?" Verita nodded mutely and strode forward, Maul keeping pace easily.

They walked in silence until the diner came into view and Verita could see the large silhouette of Dex through the windows. It looked as if he was pacing back and forth and Verita's suspicion was confirmed as she drew closer and Dex saw her with a shadowy figure.

"GET THE KRIFFING HELL AWAY FROM HER!" the besalisk roared, tearing out of the diner at breakneck pace, all four arms prepared to crush the assailant to the ground.

"Dex no! He's with me! He saved my life!" Verita stepped between him and Maul and Dex skidded to a halt, a look of confusion on his fleshy face.

"Dex," Verita repeated slowly, "This man...this Jedi saved my life. I was at the Temple and lost track of time when Trandoshan slavers tried to take me. Thankfully Master Maul was in the area and heard me otherwise…" She swallowed hard and Dex growled low in his throat.

"Well…" the besalisk had gone from angered to sheepish in the wake of Verita's explanation and he looked over her shoulder at the silent Jedi behind her.

"You have my thanks Master Jedi."

Verita heard the rustling of fabric and turned to see that Maul had dropped his hood. His blue eyes were piercing even in the dirty lightning of the diner and she was struck by how very similar to the holocrons they were; seemingly ageless and containing the hidden knowledge of the universes.

"Lady Verita was more than capable of handling those thugs on her own. I merely provided... _assistance_."

"Well I can't let you go without a proper thanks," Dex said, scratching the bristle on his jowl. 

"No thanks is needed," Maul said smoothly, "I am merely pleased the Force put me in the right place at the right time."

Verita snorted slightly and caught Maul's slow, lazy wink in her direction. The Force her _sheb_...he had been following her since she left the Temple and he knew that she knew and now she wanted to know why.

"I insist Master Jedi," Verita said, plastering on a sickly sweet smile. "After all, the slaver may have friends that he can come back with….why don't you stay for a bit just to make sure and I can make some kaf?"

"An excellent idea!" Dex boomed before Maul could get a word in. Spinning faster than one would expect of an alien his size, Dex turned toward the diner and looked expectantly behind at the two of them.

Maul cocked an eyebrow (eyeridge? Verita didn't know the proper anatomical term) and she gestured toward the door, a small smile touching her lips.

"After you...Master."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sheb: ass
> 
> Shab: fuck


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which certain truths come out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone reading this after what has been an absolutely terrifying week here in the US, thank you. This is my outlet for when things get crazy and to have you along for the ride is one of the most amazing things I could ask for.

The walk up to the apartment was silent, Verita trying to tamp down the anxiety she knew that Maul would sense. The anxiety wasn't even due to the fact that she had broken into a Jedi holocron and hacked the information…she was terrified that the Jedi would find her neglected apartment an absolute abhorrence to his Order’s tidy ideals. The Jedi in question was silent, simply a shadow at her side, as Verita typed in the door code and it slid open.

Maul stepped forward into the living space and Verita busied herself punching in the lock code and removing her boots as she watched Maul slowly stalk around the room. He was leonine in his movements, every step deliberate, eyes flickering to every corner of the room and, Verita guessed, beyond, reaching out with the Force. 

Verita wasn't one to mind silence, preferred it actually, but this one had an undercurrent of tension and was rapidly becoming uncomfortable. Clearing her throat, she bustled into the kitchen and filled her kettle with water and clicked the stove on. 

"No nanowave?"

Verita whirled, hands flying to the blades at her sides. Maul was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes alight with mild amusement at her reaction.

Straightening, Verita shrugged mildly. 

"The kettle is made of beskar and a gift from a friend...I've found that sometimes slower is better."

"Indeed…" 

Verita checked the kettle one more time and turned back to Maul.

"I'm going to clean myself up in the ‘fresher. Watch the kettle?" 

Before the Jedi could answer, Verita slipped around him and snapped the door shut on the refresher. 

The scalding water felt good on her grimy, street-stained skin, and Verita felt her shoulders loosening as the hot water poured over her body. Trusting that Maul wouldn't let her apartment burn down, she took her time, ensuring that every hair was cleaned and the last of the Trandoshan's blood was scrubbed away from her body.

Slipping into a more comfortable set of clothing, Verita stepped back into the living room and stopped dead in her tracks. It was pristine. The clothes she had stacked haphazardly on one end of her lounge were now folded neatly, the dirty ones in a bin near her bedroom. Mouth agape, she padded into the kitchen to find her dishes cleaned and drying on the rack next to her sink. Maul was at the stove, pouring two steaming mugs of tea. He looked up as Verita entered and had the self-satisfied grin of a Loth-cat that had just caught particularly tricky prey.

“What?” he shrugged, as if he cleaned stranger’s apartments everyday, and passed her a mug. 

Mutely, Verita wrapped her hands around the ceramic and padded back into the living room, curling up onto a section of the sofa. Gesturing to the other side, Maul joined opposite her, crossing his legs underneath himself. Verita was struck with how... _domestic_ the scene would probably look to someone who had just walked in, but she could feel Maul’s gaze boring into her skull as she very determinedly refused to make eye contact. Legend had it that Jedi could look straight into one’s mind simply with eye contact and Verita had very little desire to have her thoughts picked out and examined like a meiloorun at the local market.

Maul suddenly let out a low chuckle, the sound a whip-crack through the silence. It was deep, dark, and made Verita’s toes curl slightly in her bantha-hair socks as she schooled her features and looked up to see the Zabrak’s lips curled as he gazed at the wall in front of him.

“What?” she snapped. 

Maul chuckled again. “It’s... _amusing_ to me that you thought you could slice a holocron and get away with it...multiple in fact.”

Verita’s blood turned to ice and she tensed, ready to either fight the Zabrak for her freedom hand-to-hand or against the seemingly impenetrable Force.

Maul ignored Vertia’s sudden tension and continued, his voice a slow, lazy drawl. “Of course, no one else is going to be able to tell. It was expertly done I must admit...only someone who has done it themselves would be able to tell the difference. I pity anyone who has gotten caught...Master Jocasta is not known for her leniency when it comes to tampered...or overdue, holocrons.”

His gaze twitched toward Vertia’s and she had to hide the small rise of her mouth at the attempt to put her at ease. _One who has done it themselves_...then that meant-

“What did you change?” Verita said, curiosity getting the better of her.

“You first,” he growled. “Those were vital and rare pieces of information Jedi through the millenia had collected on the Unknown Regions...I assume your interest in that area isn’t purely academic.”

Verita took a deep breath; she had debated spinning an elaborate story to throw the Zabrak off-course but, looking into Maul's steely gaze, knew it would be a pointless task and earn her a place in a Republic prison faster than she could say _"shabuir."_

"I'm not from around here….although you already knew that. My home is both further and closer than one would think. I was born on Mandalore and raised there as a child until-" Vertia let a note of bitterness slip into her voice. 

"-until the Duchess Kryze took the throne and declared Mandalore a neutral system...declaring 'pacifism' was the Way."

"And you don't believe in her line of thinking?"

Verita snorted. "When the galaxy is at peace, yes. But we are beleaguered on all sides, both within and without. There was... _is_ an extremist group within our planet that call themselves Death Watch and they are dedicated to bringing back Mandalore's warrior past...through any means necessary. My parents were part of it. At first it wasn't as extreme; simply protesting here and there...but when the body count started to rise, my parents saw they could not raise their daughter in an environment like that. I was sixteen when they told me we were leaving; at first I thought it was for my first mission and was so excited. But after the ship crossed into Wild Space I realized we were running...but there's nowhere to hide when Death Watch is hunting you. They found us and disabled our ship. Once they boarded, my parents were executed...were not allowed a warrior's death for their desertion. I was left alive only because the Watch has a sick moral compass about not killing their own children...when they've caused the deaths of hundreds and orphaned thousands more. Instead, I was left adrift in space, with only enough rations to last me a standard rotation, no blood on the Watch's hands. My parent's bodies I ejected from the ship...the only thing I had from them was their armor and even that was useless to me. I was down to my final rations when I was...rescued I suppose you could call it. 

"What do you know about the Chiss?"

The abrupt change of subject had Maul sitting back on his heels. Verita hadn't noticed, too lost in the past, but Maul had been leaning forward, blue eyes alight with curiosity.

Now lounging leisurely against the arm of the sofa, Maul cocked an eyebrow and said, "Not much, but what I'm guessing what I did know has since been altered." Verita bared her teeth but Maul continued.

"They're similar to Pantorans in color and stature...but look more like they have an eye condition with their red pupil and sclera. They are warriors in their own right; fiercely protective of their planet's and locations, and any attempt to find one has been met with ships either in ruins or never returning from the Unknown Regions."

"You forgot pompous assholes who enjoy playing political games with their words and utilizing the military as their own little chessboard to accumulate influence and power with the other Families."

Maul let out a low chuckle. "I see no lost love is found there."

Verita cocked her head. "For the Ascendency as a whole? No. It is a dying culture and has been for a long while. The people on the other hand…" she swallowed hard. _Thrawn. Ar’alani. Thalias. Cher’i._ "The people I would give my life for. For the Chiss and Mandalore. Both gave me the tools I needed to survive and I am only able now to find ways to repay that debt. Starting with protecting Chiss secrets against those that would seek to use them for their own gain."

The tea had grown cold in her hands and, standing from the couch, walked over to Maul and slid the cup from his grasp. Her fingers brushed his marked ones for a brief moment and Verita caught a flash of sorrow, hope...and _understanding_. The sudden onslaught had her reeling, but in that singular touch, she knew what Maul had done.

"It was your brothers," she whispered and Maul's gaze snapped up. 

"You changed something for them. What was it?"

"Their location, names, ages...everything I could get my hands on." Maul sighed deeply and the sound shuddered through his body.

"Dathomir is not a forgiving place. Only the strong survive and those too weak to face its challenges get swallowed up into the mist, never to be seen or heard from again. For us Nightbrothers, it is a constant way of life: kill or be killed. It is only amplified by our servitude to the Nightsisters." His lips curled back into a feral snarl and Verita caught a glimpse of the ruthless warrior behind the blàse Jedi robes.

"They...take us as they please and make us serve them in...ways. We have no say in the matter and disobedience is punishable by death. My brothers had been lucky to be spared...I...I was not. My powers were evident from an early age and the sisters aimed to capitalize on that by creating more witches for their coven. Once I received wind of what my future would hold...that of a life no better than breeding stock, I took my brothers and ran. We had talked...had planned for this moment but never dreamed the day would come. By some miracle of the Force we escaped and found ourselves on the nearby Koth system where I was able to hail a Republic vessel. The Jedi in charge tested me and, despite my advanced age, requested I be submitted for training into the Order. I agreed but on one condition: that my brothers be allowed to settle in safety away from the witches and they would be given all the resources the Republic and Jedi could offer for them to start a new life.

It was too tempting for them to pass up. I settled my brothers and came to Coruscant to train. I altered their public records to a different planet to throw any potential spies for the Nightsisters off their trail...I haven't seen them in years.”

Verita let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and stepped back from Maul. He hadn't moved from his seated position on the couch, his head tilted up toward her in an expression she didn't know how to read. 

"What I'm saying is…"

"You don't need to say it," Verita said. "I don't want you to because it then becomes pity and I don't want or need it."

"I wasn't going to offer it." 

Verita sucked in a breath as Maul unfolded himself from his position on the couch to stand in front of her. She barely met the top of his chest and he had an unnatural warmth radiating off of him that she could feel through his robes and the minute space between them.

"What I was going to offer little Mandalorian, is a deal. We agree to never speak of our indiscretions to anyone else...and in exchange, you work for me."

Verita barked out a laugh. "Work for the Jedi? Are your horns screwed on too tight? My whole life has been one big avoidance of the Republic and now you want me to come and work for them-?"

"Not them," Maul snapped, "Me. You get paid a small stipend to remove interested parties from my brother's trail and in return," here his lips curled into a grin that showed his pointed incisors, "I don't tell Madame Jocasta about your naughty little secret."

"What's to keep me from telling them what _you_ did?"

Maul's grin turned absolutely feral. "Ah...a negotiation is it? Master Kenobi would be pleased to meet you...well, it would seem we are at an impasse. I cannot reveal your secret while you know mine and it is simply not the Jedi way to kill an innocent...the Nightbrother way however…"

Verita tensed.

Maul chuckled, the sound almost dangerous despite his levity. 

"No, I don't think I will. You interest me little Mandalorian and I want to see you live up to your people's reputation as the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. I'll change the deal: I'll still pay you to protect my brothers, and in exchange for your silence, I offer you the opportunity to travel alongside me and my troops, seeing the galaxy. If you find a place you'd like to settle, simply say the word and we will drop you there. Of course I would be able to call on your debt to me at any time."

He extended a red and black hand and Verita eyed it as one would a sleeping rancor. Travel and not have to do another plie and actually be who she had always been: a little too wild for the taciturn Chiss Aristocra, but not fully ready as a full-fledged Mandalore. Maybe this could begin to set things right.

Taking Maul's hand, Vertia felt a rumble of pleasure go through the point where their hands met and she saw Maul's eyes widen at the contact, as if he sensed that she felt it.

Pulling away, Maul took his cloak from where he had set it upon entry into Verita's little home.

"Tomorrow, little Mandalorian. Landing platform ECB12 at 0800. Don't be late." Tossing the hood over his horns, he slipped out the door and into the night.

Alone, Verita looked around. Did she just say yes to one of the most dangerous Jedi in the galaxy to go and fight alongside him in a mutual blackmailing partnership?

_"Shab."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You did this to yourself Verita. 
> 
> If you can't tell, I love Mando'a swears
> 
> Shab: fuck
> 
> Shabuir: motherfucker


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Mandalorian and a Jedi? They'll never see it coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that part in the Battlefront II trailer where the clone is yelling "NOT CLEAR NOT CLEAR?!" Yeah that's what this is all about...

Verita made it to the platform a full hour before she was supposed to but found it already bustling with activity. She shifted the helmet under her arm and looked around, trying to hide her curiosity.

She had seen the holovids of course. Her Family had made it absolutely imperative that she stay updated and informed on the war as it progressed, especially when they had decided to send her on this mission. She had been fascinated by the clones, the synchronicity with which they moved, their battle prowess; she knew that they were all genetic templates of a _dar'manda_ Mandalorian named Jango Fett and he had brought in some of her people's best warriors to train and instruct the clones in the art of war. If Mandalorians were good at one thing, it was fighting anything and anyone, each other included. It was why the Jedi hadn't been able to defeat the Mandalorians eons ago and the Republic hadn't been able to tame the wayward planet in recent years, although Duchess Satine's newfound breed of pacifism was rapidly eroding what little credibility her people had as warriors.

This particular crew of clones had their standard-issue white armor, but with a few modifications. Many of the troops had black markings on their helmets and armor reminiscent of Maul's tattoos, a few even adding streaks of red to match. It made them look vicious, fierce, and Verita had the sneaking suspicion that was the entire point. It certainly made a statement and when a black-marked trooper with a red kama stepped in front of her, hand raised, she fought the reflex to flinch.

"Sorry ma'am, no civilians are permitted on this platform."

"Ah...the Jedi Maul told me to meet him here for-" she paused. Why had he wanted her to meet him here? Clearly the troops were packing up to leave, surely he didn't intend for her to start their bargain now? She still had a mission to fulfill for the Aristocra and leaving Coruscant was counterintuitive on every level.

The trooper looked down at her and tilted his head slightly, hand sidling to the blasters at his side.

"Ma'am if you do not leave-"

"Fang! She's with me!"

Maul stepped out of the shadows of the loading ramp and strode toward the pair of them, robes snapping with the movement. Verita saw that his usual cream-colored tunic had been replaced by a black one, with armor plates similar to the clones protecting his shoulders and chest. His forearms were encased in greaves and she saw that they bore the same markings as his troops and felt a surge of warmth for the clear affection that was shared between General and troopers to inspire such commemoration.

Stopping next to the trooper he had called Fang, Maul looked down at Verita and raked his cerulean gaze over her. She had thought it best to outfit herself in case Maul had a change of heart about turning her over to Republic forces and had donned her Mandalorian gear for the first time since leaving the Unknown Regions. She wore blacks similar to the clones underneath dark green plates and the paint had chipped enough to show some of the invaluable beskar underneath protecting her body. Around her hips she wore a tooled leather belt, knives strapped to either side against her thighs, and across her back lay her beskad. The armor was all she had left of her parents, the Chiss having helped her reforge and shape the armor her parents once wore to protect their only living daughter, the excess used to forge the fearsome sword across her back. Legend had it a beskad could stop a lightsaber in its tracks and Verita sincerely hoped she never had to put that theory to the test. Her helmet lay tucked underneath her arm and the sharp angles looked as dangerous as her knives as the golden visor reflected the Coruscanti sunlight. 

Maul finished his perusal and Verita couldn't read the expression on his face as he turned to Fang.

"Get her loaded up and ready to leave, the last of the supplies are being loaded."

"Wait what?" Verita blurted.

Maul turned, his gaze like ice. "We have a deal, do we not little Mandalorian? We're leaving for the planet Corvus...you may not have been aware in the Unknown Regions, but there is a war going on." 

His voice was sharper than Verita had heard before and she sensed an underlying tension to him that had not been present in their previous encounters. Was it the war that had him so on edge? Or something else? 

Shrugging the small duffle she had packed more solidly onto her shoulder, she looked at the clone Fang and said, "Lead the way _vod_." 

Fang startled. "Do you speak Mando'a?"

Verita nodded. "I was raised on Mandalore, it is my native tongue."

Fang let loose a string of Mando'a that Maul, for his limited vocabulary, could not keep up with. Verita, however, broke into a grin and jabbered back to the clone in the same language. Together they began walking to the ship and Maul couldn't help but shake his head; in all his years fighting alongside the taciturn and battle-hardened commander, he'd never sensed Fang so excited about anything. Apparently his deal with the Mandalorian Verita was already turning out to be full of surprises.

***

Vertia, for all her misgivings about having to leave Coruscant and essentially abandon her mission, had never been more at home. The clones reminded her so much of her _vod >_ in Death Watch, before the killing, before the bloodbaths, that she found herself settling in with them easily. 

Fang was the commanding officer of the 715th, fondly known as the "Dac Division'' among the GAR. When Verita had inquired as to what 'Dac' stood for, he explained that it was short for chirodactyl, a native beast to Dathomir made particularly infamous due to a single member of its species known as Gorgara for striking hard and fast. Even the Nightsisters for all their power were unable to tame the beast, and Verita felt a small sense of smug satisfaction at Maul's spite toward his jailers.

Pebbles, Striker, and Slider were other members of the division she found herself introduced to. Pebbles was the division’s sharpshooter; his name coming from a story he first told Verita when they were introduced. Apparently, the clones got drunk during one of their shore leaves and one of his brothers from a different division bet that Pebbles couldn’t hit the broadside of a boulder with his rifle. Pebbles proved him right; instead hitting the five small pebbles resting on top that a local must have placed there for luck or some stray animal left behind. Either way, the challenger finding himself a few credits short and Pebbles with his new name.

Striker and Slider were part of the ARC division of the 715th. Striker specialized in hand weapons, knives and the like, while Slider led infiltration. According to him, he was able to slide into any crack or crevice in an enemy’s lines and extrapolate on that weakness. Vertia had little doubt of his claim, the clone was slighter than his brothers which made him an ideal candidate for infiltration and espionage. She had met many more of Maul’s men, but these three had actively sought her out on her first day aboard the Republic cruiser and had stuck to her like a mynock on a ship’s hull. Personally, she didn’t mind; they were exactly the type of men and soldiers she had grown up with: dedicated to duty and loyal to a fault, but were able to let loose and have fun at her expense, regardless of sex. She also had the sneaking suspicion that Maul had warned the men away from her, not for her safety, but theirs. She used the time they were enroute to Corvus to get to know them better and build rapport, her life may very soon depend on that bond and vice versa.

***

"Who are you getting all pretty for?" Pebbles shouted across the barracks.

"Not you _vod_...she's got her sights set a little higher up the chain of command," Striker shouted back to his brother.

Verita paused in her application of the leather-black lipstick to shoot back. "Wrong again boys...if we're gonna kill clankers, we do it with style...plus I don't need my holo looking as ugly as yours if I die."

Jeers and shouts erupted across the barracks and Verita smiled to herself, swiping the last few streaks of black across her mouth. It was silly she knew to be wearing makeup underneath her helmet when nobody would see it, but she had always referred to it as her "war paint" and was the final piece before donning her helmet and becoming another faceless warrior in a sea of chaos.

Corvus was a little nowhere planet in the middle of a nowhere cluster controlled by neither side, which is why the Republic had stationed a dockyard for ship repairs near the forest planet’s equator. Unfortunately, someone had let slip the location and the planet found itself under siege from Separatist forces, hence the 715th’s rather abrupt arrival straight into battle the moment they pulled back into realspace.

Vertia clutched the strap above her tightly, knuckles white beneath the black leather of her gloves. The transport rattled and shook as it screamed toward the planet’s surface and beside her, Fang tilted his helmet toward her in a silent question. She nodded curtly and focused back on her breathing; she wasn’t opposed to flying, enjoyed it rather, but hated that she wasn’t the one behind the controls. Around her, the clones swayed in unison with the ship, the dim lightning making their markings seem positively feral in the red glow. Maul himself looked something out of a nightmare: blue eyes almost red in the dimness, shadows throwing his face into sharp relief, and horns glimmering faintly in a devilish halo around him. He hadn’t said more than a few short words to Verita before they boarded the transport but she understood; as general and commander, he had a great many other responsibilities besides her and warmed with the thought that he knew she could take care of herself and didn’t need her hand held. It was a courtesy few had allowed, either underestimating her or treating her like crystal, too young and naive to ‘understand’ the struggle.

As the carrier’s PA began the landing countdown, Verita felt the familiar surge of adrenaline and hyperfocus that came before battle. It wasn’t dissimilar to tunnel vision, but had clarity that the former lacked. She was able focus on multiple aspects of the battle all at once, while remaining present to her current situation. It didn’t make her infallible, but gave her a better view of the entire picture playing out in front of her, a useful skill when the chaos and confusion of battle tended to warp a soldier's sense of everything around them...a sometimes fatal mistake.

 _“Buy'ce olar, kar'ta ogir,”_ she whispered under her breath. Helmet on, heart gone.

Beside her, Fang tapped her shoulder plate and she turned to find his helmet millimeters from her own. Her HUD filled with his visor as he tapped the forehead of his helmet against her own. 

_“Oya,”_ he breathed and Verita’s heart swelled. It was a traditional battle cry of her people and the fact that the generally taciturn and serious commander had overheard her and deigned to respond, had beskar clink against plastoid as she met his helmet with hers.

_“Oya, vod.”_

“Fang,” Maul snapped and the commander straightened and Verita heard the safety of his blasters click off as the call of “three, two, one...GO!” rang out in the cramped cruiser.

***

Verita rushed out with the clones, the screaming of blaster fire and dust filling the air as the carrier took off with a blast of hot wind. Beskad in hand, a pistol similar to Fang’s in the other, she surged forward, Fang leading the way just in front of her. She had tapped into the 715th’s comm channel and was bombarded with an onslaught of screams, orders, and commands as they began to press forward into the fray. 

A blaster bolt zinged past her helmet and Verita cursed, she had been so focused on the sound in her helmet, that she had forgotten to focus on the external and swung the beskad at the offending droid’s neck. Beskar sliced through the metal like butter and the droid crumpled. Never slowing, she followed the clones deeper and deeper into the gnarled forest. The trees were old, many of them twice the width of a normal man, and provided excellent coverage for her and the clones as they began moving forward toward the dockyard. The unfortunate side effect was that the droids were able to hide as well and thus began a game of cat-and-mouse as the clones surged forward, only to hide once again as the Separatist’s countered them move for move. 

The plan that Maul had laid out in the war room prior to their loading onto the shuttles had been simple: the 302nd was already engaged at the docks with holding off the droids from the front, the 715th’s job was to cut them off from behind; a pincer that, if executed correctly, would leave little room for the droids to retreat and call for reinforcements. It had seemed simple enough at the time, but Verita knew once battle began, even the most well-laid out plans went to hell in a handbasket.

“We’re being pushed back!” Slider shouted as he skidded heavily to a halt in front of his commander and Verita. 

“They’re beginning to flank us on either side, droidekas leading the charge. We aren’t able to roll poppers because the forest floor shoots them off into different directions and we can’t get close enough to short-circuit them for obvious reasons.”

As he was speaking, Verita snuck a glance out from the trunk they were currently hunkered behind. She could see the faint tan outlines of battle droids, as well as the blue-grey of the super battle droids. Her helmet range picked up the metal clattering that indicated droidekas were on their way and she sincerely hoped that the rough foliage was wreaking havoc on their circuits, slowing them enough to allow Fang to form a plan.

It was a futile hope. With a sudden crash of metal and foliage, five droidekas burst through the underbrush and skidded to a stop directly in front of Verita, Fang, and Slider’s tree. Across the way, she saw battle droids and super B-1s line up across the treeline. 

“This can’t get much worse.”

“Define _worse_ ,” Verita snapped to Slider and hefted the beskad more securely in her grip. She was tired, had blaster burns on the sides of her body where the beskar wasn’t able to shield her, but dank ferrik if she wouldn’t go down without a fight and besider her, Fang and Slider nodded and lifted their blasters.

A sudden humming broke the cacophony of blaster fire and Verita’s head whipped around to see Maul running at breakneck pace through his soldier's lines. His yellow lightsaber was activated and Verita saw that the strange elongation of his hilt she had observed the first time they had met allowed for not one, but _two_ blades. They whirled like a dervish, blocking every bolt as he surged forward, lips pulled back in a snarl as he began cutting through the droids as if they were simply mist.

“What are you waiting for?!” Fang shouted, racing forward to follow his general. Verita was close on his heels, firing her blaster and swinging her beskad, trying to keep Maul’s back in her line of sight. He was pure power, war made flesh, and the part of her brain that wasn’t occupied with trying not to die appreciated how his movements were almost like a dance, an extension of himself, flowing seamlessly from one threat to the next. His focus was single-minded, nothing but the threat in front of him mattered, and Verita saw from her perspective how the droids were beginning to encircle the Jedi, cutting him off from his men. 

With a sudden burst of speed, Verita surged forward and, with a wordless shout, landed directly on top of a B-1 that was lining up Maul in his sights. The beskad speared the droid through its processing circuits and Maul whirled as Verita used the droid’s downward momentum to roll into a crouch at his feet. 

“What took you so long?” he huffed, bringing the blade to bear behind him.

“You’re mad,” Verita breathed and Maul grinned and opened his mouth, but a sudden “Freeze!” stopped them both in their tracks.

Maul whipped around and Verita lifted her blaster, whirling so her back was against Maul’s. 

The foliage and sound of battle had concealed the fact that they had been slowly penned in, and Verita could see the distant outline of Fang and the rest of the division as they moved toward their position, but she knew it would come too late.

“Freeze Jedi!” the battle droid marked with the yellow of commander repeated, blaster pointed squarely at Maul.

“Any brillant Jedi insight would be incredibly helpful right now,” Verita breathed and felt Maul’s back shake with his huff of laughter.

“I’m taking that as a no. Did you bring us here to die?”

“Obviously.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“All part of my charm, little Mandalorian.”

“I wouldn’t call it _charm_.”

“Hey you two! Quit talking!” the droid jabbed his gun in their direction, and the rest of the droids hefted their blasters, safety’s recoiling.

Verita didn’t move, barely breathing as Maul hissed, “When I say, jump as high as you can.”

“And then what?”

“You fly.”

“Fly-? Wait, what?”

With a growl, Maul roared, “NOW!”

Pushing off the foliage as hard as she could, Verita leapt. Instead of coming directly back down, she continued up, up, _up_. Her stomach felt like it had been left behind on the earth as she looked down to see that Maul had slammed a hand down onto the ground and the earth itself had seemed to roll away from him, a cloud of dust bowling over the droids in a concentric circle around the Jedi. It was amazing, a raw display of power, but Verita had little time to contemplate it further as she aimed the blaster and began shooting the down droids before they could recover, blaster bolts hitting them squarely in their chest. Maul’s lightsaber made short work of the others and, as Verita hit the ground and moved into a roll, she sliced the legs out from under a droid that had escaped both onslaughts and, as she stood up directly in front of Maul, shot it squarely in the chest.

“That still counts as mine,” he muttered and Verita grinned beneath the helmet, even though she knew he couldn’t see.

“Maybe you’ll be able to repay the favor, that is...if you can keep up.” Before Maul could retort, she took off at breakneck pace toward where Fang and the division had broken through the line and could see the silhouette of the dockyard in the distance.

“Are you naturally this much of a pain in the _sheb_ or do you try?” Maul muttered, but a small smile touched his lips as he brought his blades to bear and surged forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dar'manda: banished or without honor; given to Mandalorians who were ignorant of their heritage and thus had no place in the afterlife...being dar'manda was regarded as a fate worse than death in the Mandalorian community
> 
> Vod: gender-neutral term meaning 'brother' or 'sister'
> 
> Buy'ce olar, kar'ta ogir: Helmet on, heart gone...Mandalorian proverb spoken before battle
> 
> Sheb: ass
> 
> Dank Ferrik...because I can and did you get my LOTR reference? :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a challenge is issued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't talk, I'm doing hot girl shit...and uploading _two_ chapters today instead of one!

The battle was over shortly after that, the 715th breaking through and decimating the remaining Separatist forces alongside the 302nd. Everything was a blur to Verita after battle, the clarity that came so easily in the rush of knowing each moment could be her last, made absolutely irrelevant in the come-down of adrenaline and bloodlust. Maul for his part looked completely at ease, coordinating troops, ensuring supplies were replenished, and that every last trace of the Separatist forces were eradicated from the planet. The 715th was part of the clean-up and Verita was out with the division everyday, collapsing into a bunk alongside the men every night. 

“You know you don’t have to do this,” Maul said to her one day after Verita returned from one such mission two weeks later, covered in dirt and something else she didn’t want to consider, but reeked.

“Can I at least clean up before we have this conversation?” Verita huffed, releasing the airlock on her helmet to suck in a breath of metal-infused air and shaking out her damp hair from the confines of her balaclava. 

“No.” 

“Kriffing Jedi,” she growled, and out of the corner of her eye, saw Pebbles and Slider stop and look unusually interested in the weapons case nearby, elbowing each other and whispering.

Maul crossed his arms, eyes flashing with irritation, and Verita matched him, squaring up to the Jedi, helmet on her hip, teeth bared.

“What makes me different from the rest of the men? Afraid for my sensibilities?”

“Hardly,” Maul snarled. “If anything, I’m more worried for the men. They care about you little Mandalorian and I can’t have them worried about you when they need to be protecting each other and finishing the job so we can move on.”

“The _men_ are just fine, it’s you I’m thinking is concerned and for no reason. We have single-handedly wiped out the last vestiges of Separtist forces from the planet and _now_ you’re concerned?” Verita narrowed her eyes.

Stepping forward so she could see the rise and fall of Maul’s breath, she hissed, “What changed?”

Maul’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and Verita didn’t know if it was from her proximity or the fact he was trying not to vomit from the stench roiling off her coated armor, but said, “The Council has contacted me. Apparently, our success has not gone unnoticed and they have requested our return to Coruscant so they can...thank us. Someone let slip that you were part of the division and specifically requested your presence alongside mine. We leave for Coruscant tomorrow at 0700.”

Verita let out a bark of laughter. “Is that it? We just got here and...Republic politics...Master Jedi, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were scared.”

“You’d be too if you had to listen to senator’s wives comment on what an ‘exotic savage’ you were and try to touch your horns.” Maul’s face was twisted with an expression that looked dangerously close to rage and Verita saw how still his body had gone, a predator backed into a corner, and felt a sudden rush of pity for the Zabrak. She remembered that he hadn’t grown up in the Republic, had only known a life of survival where the strongest came out on top and that was a _very_ different beast than the subtle poison and malice that came from the very seat of the galaxy’s governing body.

“What’s to stop us from ignoring the summons? Surely there are other Jedi who can afford to be recalled and given accolades…”

“I tried but my hands are tied. The Jedi serve the Republic and if that means we have to grovel and scrape to gain better armor and supplies for our men, so be it. You’ll most likely be the center of attention this time: the Mandalorian and the Jedi, heroes of Corvus.”

Verita snorted. “Of course we leave out the mutual blackmailing, correct?”

Maul bared his teeth, incisors gleaming. “Precisely. You have some experience I presume?”

“The Aristocra are just as, if not more, vicious than the Senate. I think I can handle a few grubby hands pawing me for an evening.”

Maul growled. “No one will touch you, not while you are under my-”

“What? Protection? Command? I am my own Master Jedi and will do as I see fit with myself, politics be damned.”

Maul snarled, the sound ripping from him almost involuntarily, and Verita took a step backwards. In her very brief time with Maul, she had never seen him so agitated about anything and wondered if his fear of politics went deeper than mere wandering hands. Maul’s brother’s fates were tied to every friend and enemy Maul made and her stomach twisted thinking how he had escaped from one form of servitude only to find himself in another, one that could be more insidious and deadly than any Nightsister magik.

Taking a deep breath, she looked squarely into the Zabrak’s cobalt gaze and said, “Fine. I will return to Coruscant with you...on one condition.”

Maul’s eyebrows rose, but didn’t interrupt as she continued. “I want to continue serving the 715th of my own free will, not because of some blackmailing scheme. Therefore, I propose a trial by combat. If I win, you release me from our bargain and I can come and go as I please within the division. I will not try to usurp your authority nor challenge your orders; I merely wish my freedom.”

“And if you lose?” Maul breathed, his face inches from hers and Verita caught a whiff of something musky, dark, and distinctly reminiscent of a Pasaanan spice market as she moved her face closer to the Zabrak, a small smile curling her lips as they brushed against his tattooed cheek.

“I will not lose,” she said simply and spun on her heel to go to the barrack’s refresher to clean her armor and herself. If she had looked behind her, she would have seen Maul reach up and touch the spot her skin had met his, fingers brushing over the warm spot she had left, and heard his soft whisper as he said,

“If you lose, you still win.”

***

The Dac was packed up and ready to leave within record time the next day and Verita suspected that word of her challenge to Maul had spread like wildfire through the division and the sooner they were in hyperspace, the sooner the fun could begin. Verita ate alone that morning, stomach twisting in eager anticipation for the battle ahead. She wondered what Maul’s pre-battle ritual was and was struck with the urge to wander to his quarters and find out. 

“Stars get it together,” she snapped under her breath. If she was being honest, she was growing steadily more intrigued with the Jedi everyday and it wasn’t merely a passing curiosity; Maul was an enigma as much as he was open with his emotions and Verita found that she was drawn to him like a moth to flame, the danger completely obvious but the allure too tempting to pass up. She wondered if she would burn if she got too close and hissed sharply as the cold water of the refresher sink hit her face.

Striding down the cruiser’s hallways, Verita was met with shouts of encouragement and jeers in equal measure. She knew all were made in good fun and shot back with just as much good humor, as muscle memory led her feet to the main hangar of the cruiser. 

The space had been cleared of its usual cargo crates and weapons, starfighters safely encased behind their protective atmospheric shields, and Verita stopped in her tracks at the sight of what looked to be every member of the 715th on the deck. Save for the essential personnel on the bridge (and she suspected they were watching on security feeds), the space was packed with clones, many at ground level, others having climbed onto the cargo boxes for a better view of the spectacle. They parted for Verita as she made her way to the center and she saw a flash of red in a sea of white as Maul slowly came into view at the opposite end of the ring. 

He still wore his black tunic and pants, but had slashed the sleeves so Verita could see the swirling ink lines that ran from hands, biceps, shoulders, and (she presumed) beyond. His arms were crossed and Verita saw that Maul’s slight appearance was a deceptive trick of layers; his forearms flexed with muscle. Every part of him, from his tattoos to his horns, screamed of a man bred for one thing: war and Verita felt herself warm at the primal dominance Maul exuded even when laughing and joking with his men. It called to the secret, deepest part of her that yearned for someone to understand the need to fight the injustices in the galaxy; to protect those that could not protect themselves, while also filling the void in her that screamed to be known. She’d had a few nights with strangers that satisfied, and at times exceeded, her physical needs, but never one that had looked at her, body and soul, and accepted every scar and flaw for what it was, forever a part of her story and meager place in the galaxy. As she looked at Maul running his hands up and down his lightsaber, she wondered if they would be as gentle against her skin or if, like his robes, they were concealing part of himself that also called out to be just as known.

Maul turned his gaze onto Verita, as she cleared her throat sharply. She looked so small among the six-foot plus tall soldiers surrounding her, but as Master Yoda often said, “size matters not.” Maul knew that she had twice the fight and courage as any of them and, despite only fighting alongside her for mere weeks, couldn’t help but be impressed at his little Mandalorian’s fire, spirit, and utter dichotomy of ruthlessness and inherent kindness she seemed to hold within herself like a singular galaxy. Maul ached to explore that galaxy himself, to see it combust and form a brilliant world that one day might possibly make room for him, but every time he thought to act upon his feelings, stopped. It wasn’t the Code he was afraid of, but rather himself. He had grown up on a planet where strength meant survival and to survive, Maul had done many cruel things that still haunted his dreams at night. To bring Verita into that cruelty would be the greatest act of selfishness Maul could think of, an act that there would be no turning back for him or her and wished to spare her that choice. Not because Maul thought she’d reject him, but rather that she wouldn’t and Maul would let the entire galaxy burn before he let anything happen to her. Now, as he watched Verita slide her helmet over her face, concealing herself from him once more, becoming something fearsome and out of legend, he wondered just how hot that fire would burn if he allowed it to consume them both.

“Alright, _vod_ listen up.” Fang stepped into the center of the ring and clapped his hands sharply. 

“The rules are simple: fight until blood is drawn or the other yields. No guns or other tricks,” his lips twitched slightly as he nodded toward Verita’s gauntlets and Maul’s hands. “This is a battle between warriors and honor will be upheld; at the first sign of it breaking, said individual will be held in forfeit and automatically lose. Are there any questions?”

The two combatants shook their heads, and Fang declared, “Let the challenge commence!” He stepped out of the ring and Verita and Maul stepped forward, nodded to the other, and began circling like hungry massifs.

Verita swung the beskad leisurely around her body in a circular motion, a small smile twitching her lips. Her vibroblade rested in the opposite hand in a reverse grip and raised it to her chest in ready position.

The silence surrounding the two warriors was deafening, only broken by hushed whispers and the clinking of credits as the division made bets on which would emerge victorious: the Mandalorian or the Jedi.

"You've gotten _lucky_ Jedi. Those you have fought in the past knew only how to fight you with overwhelming numbers or one of your own-"

Maul snorted derisively, gaze never wavering as they continued to circle each other like predators.

"-you need a real challenge against someone who's entire culture has been steeped in war...especially against the _jetii_."

Verita halted and raised her beskad, pointing it directly at the Zabrak's hearts. Maul mimicked her motion, raising his lightsaber and igniting the twin yellow blades, one after the other, the _snap-hiss_ silencing whatever conversation was left surrounding them.

It was the silence before the storm, the tension as taut as a rubber band. Verita knew that she wasn't fighting for her life but the way Maul was looking at her across the space between them triggered a fight-or-flight within her that spoke of centuries of primal ancestry and battles fought against his kind, the _jetii_ , and beneath the helmet, her lips pulled back, a snarl ripping from the vocabulator. 

Maul growled, a low sound that reverberated in Verita's chest, and with a sudden whirl of blades, leapt. Beskar and kyber met with an almost musical sound, a war-cry of centuries of conflict long-past, and it rang throughout the hangar as their momentum pushed them apart.

Verita didn't hesitate. With a flurry of movements, knife and sword rang against the lightsaber and Maul went from looking mildly amused to deadly focused, lips pulled back as he parried Verita’s vicious onslaught. Death Watch had learned from the mistakes of the past and the trick to catching Jedi off-balance was to strike hard and fast, no mercy, no time to focus, only instinct. For many Jedi, that was something that had to be perfected in years of combat and meditation and the Jedi of this Republic had gone soft, but Verita had made a miscalculation of her own: Maul hadn’t been raised in the Temple, hadn’t known safety for a long time. Years of living in the Nightbrother's village, of running, hiding, of survival had turned him into a warrior that Jedi training had honed to a razor’s edge and Verita found herself reaching deep inside for every ounce of training at her disposal to parry, dodge, and slash Maul with a viciousness that met him move for move.

With a flurry of movements from Maul that were too quick for any eye to catch, Verita found her beskad and blade knocked from her grip and danced out of reach of the double blades, bending almost in half as they passed through where she had only stood moments before. Her back pressed against the clones watching the fight as Maul stepped forward almost lazily. Behind him, Verita could see her weapons, the beskar reflecting gold against the glow of Maul's lightsaber. Almost resignedly, Verita pulled her remaining vibroblade from her hip and held it in front of her.

“It seems your game is at an end little Mandalorian.” Maul’s smile was positively feline as he spun the double blades in a lazy windmill. 

“Submit.”

“Never.” Verita threw the blade at Maul. He reacted precisely how she anticipated; instead of knocking the blade away with his saber, he dropped his double grip and threw out a hand to stop the weapon with the Force. As she threw the blade, Verita simultaneously charged forward and with a flurry of kicks to Maul’s torso and abdomen, knocked the Zabrak onto his back and used his backwards momentum to fly over him and land next to her beskad. Snatching the blade up, she charged at the down Jedi, a wordless shout escaping her lips.

Maul barely brought his blade up in time. The beskar began to turn red, then white, as Verita snarled and pushed the metal harder, using her higher center of gravity to force Maul’s blades closer and closer to his face. The Zabrak’s face concentrated with effort as he kicked upwards and hit Verita squarely in the middle of her helmet. With a grunt, she stepped backwards and Maul leapt up, spinning to face her once more. 

Metal and kyber clashed again, and this time, Verita felt the dance in her bones. It was one of primal aggression, dominance, and something deeper that called to the two warriors in the ring. It fueled her movements, parries and attacks almost mindless and Maul matched her step for step, never faltering as they pitted themselves against each other. Verita didn’t know how much time had passed, her body reacting on pure instinct and adrenaline, but she and Maul found themselves a handbreadth away from each other, so close that she could feel the heat from the lightsaber against her plates, and threw her head forward. 

With a cracking of bone, Maul’s hand flew to his nose and Verita snatched the wrist that was still holding the lightsaber. Spinning underneath him, she threw his arm over her shoulder and bent. The unnatural angle had Maul letting go of the saber, and Verita snatched the handle as it fell. Beskad and lightsaber in hand, she kicked out behind her and spun. Maul had pitched forward on his hands and knees, and was beginning to rise but froze as Verita stepped directly in his path and crossed beskad and saber across his throat. 

The Zabrak was as still as a statue, every muscle in his body taut, as Verita leaned down to the shell of his ear and hissed, “Submit.” The cool metal of the beskad slid slightly to tilt Maul’s chin up toward her and Verita could see the war in his gaze as he looked into the gold of her visor. There would be no shame for him to admit defeat, but Verita knew how prideful Maul was and wondered if it would be his undoing. Moving the lightsaber closer in warning, Verita watched as the yellow blade illuminated his gaze, the color turning his light eyes a deep gold.

With a rumble, Maul hissed back, “Never. But to you, today...I yield.” He lowered his gaze and Verita stepped away, deactivating the blades with a small hiss. The clones erupted into noise but Verita barely registered it as she looked at the Jedi in front of her. Maul was still on his knees, his gaze not one of defeat, but of something and Verita was sure that he could see right through her beskar shell and feel her breath catch at the thing in his gaze. They held their positions, a Jedi on his knees, a Mandalorian on her feet, until Verita almost thrust the lightsaber between them, holding it out to Maul.

It was like breaking a spell. Maul looked away from her and down to the blade, reaching out and curling a tattooed hand around it possessively as he rose. Verita didn’t dare breathe as Maul stepped forward.

“A most illuminating experience, little Mandalorian. I suggest we not make a habit of this.” 

“Afraid you might continue to lose Master Jedi?”

“I’m afraid the men might start clamoring for you to lead them. I for one would enjoy the reprieve, but I doubt the Council or Senate would enjoy the scene.”

Sincere praise from Maul was rare but Verita couldn’t help retorting, “I don’t know...I rather enjoyed seeing you on your knees. Seeing as joy is a rare commodity these days, I feel it would boost morale if we continued these... _training_ exercises.”

Maul stepped forward and leaned to where Verita’s ear would be if her helmet had been off. Despite the metal, she felt every push of his breath as he whispered in a voice too low to be overheard, “You don’t have to fight to get me on my knees _Verita_...all you need do is ask.” 

Verita fought back the shudder that rippled down her spine and pooled low in her abdomen. She was thankful Maul couldn’t see her face, but had the sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what was going on underneath the helmet as he stepped back from her, mouth crooked into a grin that showed his incisors, and strode through the crowd, clones parting for their general.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it hot in here or is it just me?
> 
> Jetii: Jedi


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I feel absolutely ridiculous," Verita grumbled as she stepped from the suite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: just play “Across The Stars” on repeat for this chapter and you get the idea
> 
> Dress is inspired by this Pin: https://pin.it/76M1kee

Upon their return to Coruscant, Verita found her chosen life of anonymity upended. She had been bustled off to the Senate without any preamble, Fang by her side, as Maul was ferried back to the Jedi Temple to recount their victory at Corvus. Verita didn't know how Jedi reports went but she doubted that it involved almost having her helmet ripped off her head and forced to smile and recount her "heroics" and "bravery" to what seemed like every bloody Senator in the bloody kriffing galaxy. Fang was a silent sentinel by her side, never saying a word, and treated by the senators as if he were of no more important than a piece of furniture in the room. At that, she ground her teeth; it didn't matter how many times she stated that she and Maul wouldn't have been alive if it wasn't for the 715th but it was ways waved away with a "oh well there's always more where that came from." The clones seemed to be no more than canon fodder for the senators to virtue-parade in front of each other and themselves, blinded to the true suffering of sentient beings that lived and died for their comfort in their cushy apartments, but Verita remembered Maul's warnings about the funding necessary to sustain a war and their troop's safety and held her tongue at times so hard it bled. As she and Fang left the rotunda of the Senate hours later, Verita slipped on her helmet, muted every external source leading outside the beskar shell, and let loose a scream that had been building inside her throat all day.

"Better?" Fang asked as they climbed back into their Senatorial-issued air taxi back to the 715th’s loading platform.

"Much," she breathed, voice still gravelly from the exclamation. 

Sighing deeply, she slid off the helmet and looked at Fang. "How do you stand it? Being treated that way? I'd like to put some of them into the middle of a firefight and see how they like being shot at by clankers."

Fang chuckled and slid his own helmet off as well. She knew what he looked like, had seen his face reflected back to her in Pebbles, Sinker, and the others of the Dac, but knew that if she lined all of them up against the entire GAR, she would find each and every one of them by name. There was a spark in every clone that, once tested and tried, shone so brightly and uniquely that, in a galaxy of millions, she couldn't miss, and felt the now-familiar rush of anger at the Senate and their dismissal of the clones and their sacrifices.

They weren't able to continue the conversation as the taxi stopped, not in front of the loading docks, but at a senatorial apartment complex. Leaning forward, Verita tapped on the side of their droid chauffeur's processor.

"I think you got us confused with someone else droid."

"No mistake," the droid said firmly. "Verita Dhuramav, Mandalorian, is to be taken to a private suite to prepare for the evening's festivities held in her and the Jedi Maul's honor. I am to take CT-6571 back to the docks to prepare for their next mission in three days' time."

Verita's gaze snapped to Fang's and he shrugged blithely, but Verita could see concern in his dark eyes as the helmet slid back over tanned skin. Placing a hand on his gloved ones, she gave a muted reassurance, and climbed out of the car and strode toward the glass monstrosity in front of her.

Verita's suite was on the upper levels of the building and as she walked into the space, stopped dead in her tracks. She had never thought of Coruscant as beautiful, preferring nature over machine and modernity, but as she looked out one of the transparisteel windows that encased the entirety of the room, the sun's final rays cast a glow across the buildings and docks that seemed to set the city ablaze. Verita was so mesmerized with the scene that when a shadow detached itself from a corner of the room, she startled and reflexively threw one of her vibroblades.

The spinning beskar stopped in midair, inches from the intruder's heart, and a dry voice said, "I'd love to say that surprises are welcome, but where you are concerned little Mandalorian, I think I rescind that thought."

"Maul," Verita breathed and the blade turned on its point to float lazily back to her outstretched hand. 

Maul stepped into the dying light of the cityscape and Verita caught her breath. He was dressed in his usual black, lightsaber clipped to his belt, but the cut of his tunic was a deep V that highlighted his muscular chest and symmetrical tattoos that ran the length of his torso and abdomen. His pants and boots were close-fitting and she could see the subtle shift of muscle as he moved. His horns were polished to a high gleam that reflected in the apartment as the internal lighting automatically switched on, and Verita saw that golden hoops and chains were draped across and throughout them, matching the few rings adorning his hands.

"Like what you see?" he purred and Verita snorted, trying to stave off the drop in her stomach at his words.

"If a varactyl could have a mirror, it couldn’t compare to a Zabrak's vanity," she retorted and ignored the flicker of Maul's expression as he stepped back, hands clasping behind his back.

"Well then little Mandalorian, you best get ready. The Senate is a many-headed beast and waiting is not one of their virtues. I think you'll find everything you need in there," he gestured toward an open door and Verita could see the outline of a bed and more doors beyond. All she truly wanted to do was sleep but duty called, so she shut the door firmly behind her and began to get ready for a war that was more vicious and fierce than any tactical battle droid could conjure.

***

"Stars I feel ridiculous," Verita repeated and Maul started to turn as he said, "I'm sure you're exagg-"

Verita watched as the Zabrak stopped, and shifted uncomfortably.

"It's ridiculous isn't it? Please say it is so we don't have to go."

"I wouldn't say that," Maul said hoarsely and Verita looked down at herself again.

There were more dresses in that closet than she could ever wear in one lifetime and had pushed past layers of shimmersilk and other expensive fabrics to find the simplest one in the massive wardrobe.

It was black, with a high collar and sheer sleeves that opened at the bend of her elbow and flowed down to the floor. The floor-length dress split at the apex of her thighs and exposed flashes of skin as she walked, with a panel down the middle. Her torso was encased in a rich silver pattern that, upon closer inspection, was revealed to be beskar crafted to an almost filigree texture and formed an armor-like quality that Verita took comfort in. The heels she had chosen brought her eye-level with Maul's chin and she only had to tilt her head a fraction to see his heavy gaze on her.

"Beautiful. That is the word I was going to use," he breathed and Verita was grateful she had left her hair in a loose braid as she turned to hide the flush of pleasure at his words.

Clearing her throat, she said, "You're not so bad yourself." Striding towards the door, she gestured.

"Shall we?"

*** 

The building hosting the soiree was an art gallery owned by Governor Haren and the number of times Verita had heard that booming statement from the odious individual in question echo throughout the space so far made her want to find the nearest hors d'oeuvre knife and jab it in her ears and, judging by the tight set of Maul's jaw, he felt the same. Taking a large swallow of the golden bubbles that was her third?, fourth? of the night, Verita let her gaze wander lazily around the room.

Before they had entered a few hours prior, Maul had stopped abruptly near the entrance to the foyer and Verita had strode a few steps ahead before realizing that the Jedi was no longer following. Tottering precariously back to Maul, she saw every inch of his body was taut, as if preparing to run off into the Coruscanti twilight.

"Hey." Taking one of his clenched hands in hers, she gently pried them open and placed her palm in his, fingers aligning. Maul's expression shifted from cornered animal to wary confusion, eyes flickering to where her bare skin touched his own. His skin was warm, almost uncomfortably so, and Verita wondered if it was an evolutionary mechanism brought on from living on such a harsh planet as Dathomir. Either way, it seemed to spread through her and couldn’t help the involuntary goosebumps that erupted across her body.

Bringing his gaze back to hers, Verita said firmly, "You are a Jedi, you have every right to be here as any of these _shabuir_ , more even. They are here for us, so _command their attention._ Make them contemplate the consequences of crossing a hero of the Republic and if they don't get the message the first time, I am more than happy to assist." Flicking her braid over one shoulder, Maul caught the faint outline of something silver gleaming through the intricate strands.

"A bes'bev. A traditional Mandalorian flute but sharpened to a point on the end...good in a fight if needed."

Maul bared his teeth in a feline grin and chuckled softly. "Always prepared aren't you little Mandalorian?"

"I've learned that with you, it's always best to expect the unexpected."

Smiling up at the Zabrak, Verita released her grip on the Jedi and turned to walk back toward the doors, but Maul's hand clutched her elbow and she whirled to see him extend his arm to her, eyebrow cocked in a silent question. Verita took it without hesitation, and as they strode toward the doors, Maul leaned in, mouth brushing the shell of her ear, as he said quietly, "They are here for you as well Verita. _Make them remember you_."

***

“I wish people would just forget we were here,” Verita muttered out the corner of her mouth as she pasted a smile on her face to yet another Senator’s wife exclaiming “Oh what a beautiful companion Master Jedi! She hardly looks the fighting type, don’t you think she would be safer here on Coruscant?”

Maul felt Verita tense beside him, but said smoothly, “Lady Verita is more than capable of handling herself, madam. As the Jedi saying goes “size matters not” when compared to the strength of the Force.”

“Oh a lady!” the woman exclaimed, fluttering her hands like a swarm of fliis in apparent agitation. “What in Maker’s name is a lady doing on the battlefield?”

Grinding her teeth together, Verita counted to ten and replied evenly, “Mandalorians do not see any difference between commoner and royalty; when the call comes from the Mand’alor, all answer and fight, regardless of status. It is an honor to fight alongside Master Maul in service to the greater good.”

“Oh...well…” The woman looked flustered at the steel in Verita’s gaze and, with a few muttered apologies, scurried away into the crowd, and Verita let loose a breath between her still-clenched teeth. 

Maul chuckled and Verita shot him a look of irritation. “How much longer is this going to go for? I’m starting to think my time recovering from a broken sternum was less painful than this obsequious nonsense.”

“All part of the game, _cyar'ika_.” Maul’s gaze roved imperiously over the glittering crowd and Verita saw the same contempt in his gaze that she felt mirrored in her own. He looked a king gazing out into a sea of his subjects and Verita couldn’t help the small part of her that revel in the sheer power Maul exuded and beside him, knew that she looked the part; instead of a blood-stained Mandalorian in armor, she was playing the part of queen and couldn’t help relishing the feeling. It only amplified everytime Maul caught her gaze; there was something in his eyes that was both terrifying and thrilling to contemplate and his use of _‘cyar’ika’_ had her shifting slightly to quell the sudden ache between her legs. She knew they were playing a dangerous game in sight of the entire Senate; one that could have disastrous consequences for multiple parties, but maybe it was the combination of alcohol and the knowledge that everyone was already watching them that had her taking Maul’s hand and leading him to the center of the floor where senators and other dignitaries were dancing.

“What’s this?” Maul’s eyes were glittering with amusement and wariness, but let out a huff of laughter as Verita went into a deep curtsey.

“Ah...I see the Lady knows her manners.” Maul swept into an elegant bow and one marked hand clutched underneath Verita’s chin. 

His grip was firm, but gentle, and as Verita rose, she felt the callouses along Maul’s fingers and hands from years of weapons training scrape across her jaw and felt her face warm.

Twisting her head out of Maul’s grip, Verita snorted. “Master Jedi, it is cruel of you to continue in that vein when we know that both of us are no more than oddities and curiosities for this vicious pack of jackals.”

“You are more worthy of that title than any one of this present company.”

Before Verita could retort, Maul swept her into his arms and they began moving across the dance floor. The song was soft, flowing, and gave Verita time to contemplate Maul’s skill as he led them expertly through the crowds. She had been taught by the Aristocra how to properly present herself at functions and it included a number of unfortunate dance lessons that she could never quite get the hang of but could passably not embarrass herself if the situation required. 

Maul danced like he fought, without hesitation and a certain grace that bespoke a natural awareness of his body, and his confidence allowed Verita to find herself getting lost in the music and his embrace. Maul’s hands were warm and even through the gown, Verita could feel it and it only added to her out-of-body experience as the music suddenly swelled and crescendoed and Maul abruptly dipped and spun her. The change in position had her almost panicking, but she locked eyes with Maul and knew exactly what he was asking of her. _Trust_. She reached up and caressed his face almost unthinkingly in silent acceptance and saw the small crease near his eyes that was his only acknowledgement and she let go, allowing the music to fill her and revel in the knowledge that she had a partner that would not let her fall.

All too soon, the music ended and Verita found herself a hair's breadth away from Maul. They were so close, she could feel his breath as it brushed her cheek, his chest rising and falling in synchronicity with hers as they held each other. Maul’s gaze was burning a hole through her and Verita found herself leaning in towards the Zabrak and he seemed to be doing the same...

“Bravo! Oh what skill Master Jedi, you must dance with my wife!”

Verita stepped back from Maul as Governor Haren dragged his terrified-looking mouse of a wife toward them and practically threw her at the befuddled Jedi. 

“And of course Lady Verita must dance with me! Such grace! Such beauty...almost as beautiful as some of the paintings I have here tonight…”

Verita crossed her eyes at Maul who flashed her a small smile as she was swept away.

***

“Thank the Maker,” Verita groaned, kicking off her heels and chucking them as far as she could into the apartment.

It was late and the party had finished with nary an incident, save for Verita nearly snapping the fingers of one of Governor Haren’s aides who had decided to test her patience with his wandering hands. Maul couldn’t deny the rush of pleasure he had felt watching Verita’s eyes go cold and her chin tilt imperiously as the aide’s face went white and curled in on himself with the pain. 

Releasing him, Verita had turned her back on the aide, seeking another glass of whatever Haren had been serving, when Maul had clutched the man’s arm and hissed softly, “You touch her again...you touch _anyone_ else tonight and you’ll find yourself missing an appendage I’m sure you care very much about...as inconsequential as it may be.”

If possible, the aide went even paler and stuttered something incoherent that Maul took as an apology and released him, watching the man stumble out the door and into the Coruscanti night. 

“Everything alright?” He had turned back to Verita and taken the proffered drink with a smile, eyes never leaving hers as they touched glasses. 

“Better.”

***

Verita padded further into the apartment, relishing the cool marble beneath her sore feet, and turned to see Maul hovering in the doorway with an expression that looked perilously close to uncertainty.

“Well? Don’t just stand there, come inside, it’s kriffing freezing.”

With a start, Maul nearly leapt inside the room, door sliding shut behind him. Realizing that Verita was watching him with no small measure of amusement on her face, he straightened and huffed, smoothing down the front of his tunic. Verita couldn’t help but admire how well Maul fit the modern quarters; all angles and lines, the tattoos adding a bit of color in the austere space.

“Drink?” Padding into the kitchen, Verita selected a vintage of Alderrannian wine that cost more than twice what her armor could garner on the black market, and snagged two glasses from the cabinet nearby. 

Maul was standing with his back to her, arms clasped behind him and looking out into the Coruscant skyline. He accepted his glass with a small nod, fingers brushing Verita’s and she hastily turned toward the window, taking an over-large swallow of the liquid and stifled the cough that threatened to erupt in her throat.

“Amazing isn’t it...how so few control so many. What is the secret to power, do you think little Mandalorian?”

“I think…” Verita wanted to choose her words carefully, Maul seeming in a rare pensive mood that had her on guard, “I think power is wielded by those who take it with little regard for themselves and those in their path. It takes a certain level of selfishness and pride to think that you know best for an entire galaxy and to declare oneself the voice of said masses speaks to an inherent level of hubris that if left unchecked, self-spirals and destructs under the weight of gluttony and greed.”

“And that greed and gluttony...do you think it is easily controlled or does it cripple under the weight of one’s own self-importance?”

“I think blind ambition and greed allows for many levers to be pulled to manipulate an individual...it’s just a matter of finding which one to take advantage of. Of course, one must always be on guard for becoming what one hates and thus requires a careful balance of accountability and self-awareness. And that...that is what these senators and the Republic lack; so caught up in their own petty squabbles and self-righteousness that they are unable to see how their strings are tugged and pulled. The Pyke Syndicate for example is connected to many of Coruscant's most influential families and their method of blackmail and promises of wealth keep many of them in line and help push agendas that act in their own self-interest. Closer to home, Mandalore is a shadow of what it once was; the Duchess Kryze stamping down centuries of culture in pursuit of her own self-righteousness, helped by Jedi such as Obi-Wan Kenobi to help keep the planet in line to ensure that her Way is the only Way, leaving little room for a balance. There is a true burden to peace and one day I fear that it will all come crashing down around us.”

Verita didn’t dare turn as Maul looked over his glass at her. This was the most she had ever said to anyone regarding her personal feelings on the war and Republic and, judging by his silence, was probably regretting ever asking, and Verita took another swallow of alcohol, letting it slide down her throat and settle into a pleasant burn in her stomach. 

Verita finally turned as Maul’s voice, barely audible as he stepped toward her, their glasses the only thing between them, and said, “And what would you do to rectify that situation?”

Verita huffed out a laugh. “I would be an absolute fool to think that I alone could solve all the Republic’s problems, not to mention dangerously arrogant. However...I would start at the bottom, uniting the crime families in their petty squabbles against one another and build from there. Fear will keep the families in line and with that, influence into the Republic will be no difficult matter...seeing as many a senator's pockets are lined with blood money that could potentially be embarrassing should word get out. This is hardly a conversation to be having with a Jedi...keepers of the peace and all.”

Maul let out a low rumble from his chest and Verita finally met his gaze to see it was full of conflict, awe, and something darker that made her stomach twist pleasantly. Taking a deep breath, Maul sighed and said, “There is something stirring Verita...the Force, the dark side especially, has felt unusually out of balance and I cannot shake the feeling that something is coming...something that will signal the end of the Jedi and Republic as we know it.”

Verita scoffed, even as her blood turned cold at the words. “The end of the Jedi? Maul...even you cannot think that is a possibility...the Jedi have survived far worse than a few petty senatorial squabbles and a war...surely…”

Maul ran a hand through his horns in apparent agitation, “I can’t explain it...it’s just a feeling…”

“Well, if that is the case, we best be on our guard. Intelligence has reported General Grievous is hiding on one of the Outer Rim planets...with any luck we can capture him and this war can come to a swift end and stave off whatever is brewing.”

Verita refilled both of their glasses and handed Maul’s back to him. They drank in silence for a moment, until Verita blurted, “I hope this isn’t impudent, but why can one not touch a Zabrak’s horns? Outside of social niceties of course.”

Maul didn’t answer immediately, swirling the last vestiges of the wine in his glass. The bottle was nearly empty and maybe that was what was fueling Verita’s curiosity as she waited. 

“Let me counter little Mandalorian...what would you do if someone tried to take your armor?”

“I’d make them regret they were ever born.”

Maul chuckled. “I have no doubt you would. Regardless, the reason you are so protective of your armor is because it is a part of you. It is inherent to your very nature and to have someone sully it, defile it without understanding the consequences and history, is why it is such an offense to any Zabrak to lay a hand on their horns without the individual’s express permission. My horns are used to fight, to attract potential partners, and to exclaim to the galaxy what I am without ever saying a word. Just as your armor is a part of you, so my horns are a part of me...physically in this case.”

Verita nodded, feeling her face warm at Maul’s words. _To attract potential partners…_

Grinning cheekily, she said, “And how often has someone come up to you and exclaimed ‘Excuse me Master Jedi, I couldn’t help but notice your incredibly shiny horns, may I fuck you to strengthen our bloodline?’”

Maul erupted into laughter. It wasn’t his usual low chuckles or rumbling, but rather a full laugh that shook his shoulders. It made him look absolutely youthful and Verita had the feeling, even as she smiled, that it had been a long, long time since he had laughed like that.

“Oh little Mandalorian,” Maul huffed, mirth giving way to his usual sardonic amusement, “Why the Force deigned to put you in my path, I’ll never know but I am grateful for it.”

“As am I, Master Jedi.”

They locked eyes and Verita felt something change. She was no Jedi, but could feel the subtle and absolute shift of emotion between them. She was suddenly hyper aware of every rustling of Maul’s tunic against his exposed skin...of his breath, even and steady, and how his pupils expanded as Verita closed the gap between them. Heels gone, she had an unimpeded view of his chest and her hands reached out hesitantly to touch the exposed skin with a finger. 

Maul exhaled and Verita saw his eyes flutter shut at her touch, neck bared as he rolled his head back. Emboldened, she let her hands butterfly out across his chest and appreciated the subtle flexing of muscle underneath her fingertips as her hands continued their upward trajectory to settle on either side of his face.

Maul went still. Verita did as well, feeling as though she were being scrutinized by a particularly skittish predator determining whether or not she was friend or foe. Their breaths were the only movement between them, the rising and falling of their chests indicating either was a living being. Maul was the first to break the stillness, his movements like shattering glass as he closed the distance between them and lowered his face to Verita’s.

Her breath hitched and Maul paused, his lips barely a hair's breadth away. Wine glass was forgotten as one hand settled on her hip and the other traced up her side with barely a whisper to tuck a stray hair behind Verita’s ear and trace her cheekbone with his thumb.

“Maul…” Verita breathed and her nose nudged his, the tension in her body ready to combust.

Maul growled and, with a movement too gentle for the fire he felt beginning to consume him, kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I'm sorry for leaving ya'll hanging like that but I'm not...
> 
> Shabuir: motherfuckers
> 
> Cyar'ika: darling, beloved, sweetheart


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Every choice we make in our lives either leads us further and closer to our destiny and Verita Dhuramav, my choice is clear and my choice is _you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally SEXY time...goes without saying but don't read if you're under 18 please and thank you :)

If Vertia had to explain what kissing Maul was like, the closest she could compare to was kissing fire. It was absolutely all-consuming and nothing else seemed to exist outside of Maul’s lips against hers, body pressing against her and searing her skin with its heat. He was surprisingly gentle, lips gliding against hers, but Verita could feel the barely-restrained tension in his body as his kisses grew more fervent. Not wanting the Jedi to spontaneously combust, she smiled against Maul’s mouth and gently bit down on his lower lip, tracing the invisible mark with her tongue. Maul let out a hiss that turned to a groan as Verita slid her tongue into his mouth, gently massaging the muscle against his. She could taste the wine they had both consumed and, judging by his fervent reciprocation, he enjoyed the taste as much as she did. 

Breaking apart, she took a deep breath and looked up at Maul. His pupils were completely blown out, black consuming blue, and he looked something out of an old legend as the shadows reflected against his skin and horns. 

“Are you sure?” she whispered, suddenly scared. “The Order, your brothers…”

She was cut off suddenly as Maul clutched her biceps in a vise and she hissed at the strength in his grip, but any discomfort was forgotten as he brought his mouth to the shell of her ear and whispered, “Every choice we make in our lives either leads us further and closer to our destiny and Verita Dhuramav, my choice is clear and my choice is _you_.” His lips trailed down her neck and Verita arched, exposing her throat to Maul. 

“What do you choose, _cyar'ika_?” he breathed against the sensitive skin and Verita knew that if she said the word, Maul would leave and not press her for anything more than the battlefield companionship they currently shared. Whatever was beginning to burn between them had the potential to consume them both or be snuffed out and Verita felt a rush of power knowing that she held their fates on the string of a few words.

“I choose...you.”

Maul stilled, as if not believing what his ears, and Verita wondered if she needed to repeat herself as Maul breathed, “I hope you know what you’re asking little Mandalorian...I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Neither can I.”

With a growl, Maul picked her up easily, as if she was nothing in his arms, and Verita felt a thrill at his raw display of strength as she wrapped her legs around his waist, the dress slits allowing for easy movement. One of Maul's ringed hands left her waist and ran down the length of her thigh, goosebumps erupting where metal caught on the exposed skin.

"Such a naughty girl, wearing that dress and teasing me like that," he growled against her lips and Verita gasped as he squeezed her thigh and Maul’s tongue entered her mouth. She could taste the alcohol they both had imbibed throughout the soiree and it mixed with Maul's distinct spice had her eyes rolling back in pleasure as she met his pent-up emotions with her own. 

Pulling back, Verita sucked in a deep breath, chest heaving. Maul's face was inches from hers and she saw the barely restrained lust in his gaze and smiled coquettishly at him. Tightening her legs, she reveled in the soft gasp Maul let out as his erection pressed up against her hips and Verita ground down lightly against it, baring her teeth at Maul's barely restrained snarl. 

Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his exposed throat and hissed, "Patience Master Jedi. The night is young and I have many, many things I'd like to do before the sun rises...however, it requires some cooperation on your part." 

Maul cocked an eyebrow and Verita wriggled out his grasp and landed flat-footed in front of him. Trailing a hand down his exposed chest, Verita stopped just at his belt and went back up toward Maul's face. He was as still as a statue, eyes blue fire as she cupped his face in her hands.

"May I?"

She didn't need to elaborate. Slowly, Maul sank to his knees in front of her and wrapped his hands around her wrists. Ever so slowly, he guided her to his crown of horns. The bone was solid, sharpened to a point, and Verita stepped closer to thread her hands through the Zabrak's head. A low rumble was coming from Maul's chest as he clutched Verita's hips and she knew there would be bruises tomorrow morning. Ignoring Maul’s evident impatience, she took her time, exploring every single one of what was quite literally Maul’s life in her hands and with every stroke of flesh against bone, felt Maul’s breath hitch and grip tighten as his arousal grew.

Finishing her exploration, her hands trailed down his face and tilted Maul’s head up to meet her gaze. He looked almost feral as he whispered hoarsely, “You have me on my knees little Mandalorian…now what?"

"Don't stop," she whispered and nearly whined as Maul's hands left her and she watched as he ever so slowly removed each of the rings on his hands. The plinking of metal hitting the floor matched the ever-increasing tightening in her abdomen and she nearly sobbed in relief as Maul's hands wrapped around her ankles and dragged up her legs. 

Maul reached her core and cocked his head, a wolfish smile spreading across his face.

"So wet...and nothing underneath," he hissed, breaking off into a groan as Verita lazily circled a finger around one of his horns. 

"All for you, _Master_."

Verita's grin turned to a gasp and her head snapped back to hit the wall as Maul plunged two fingers inside her without any preamble. He curled them and Verita clutched Maul tighter, whimpering wordlessly. He curled them once more, and then pulled out of her as abruptly as he had entered, and she hissed in frustration. 

"Use your words little Mandalorian and maybe we both will get what we want."

Verita snarled, and Maul bared his teeth incisors flashing on the dim light. The held the others gaze, neither willing to surrender, at least until Verita threw a leg over Maul's shoulder and snarled, "Put that mouth of yours to better use and _fucking touch me_." 

Maul surged forward and Verita nearly screamed as his mouth and tongue enveloped her clit. It was a furnace, so warm and all-encompassing, that she barely noticed when Maul added his fingers back into the mix and alternated curling them in and out of her and using his thumb to press against her clit. Wordless growls were coming from Maul as he tasted her and the sensation of it against the sensitive nerves was too much.

"Maul…" she gasped and sucked in a sharp breath of air as the knot in her stomach unspooled and clenched her legs around Maul's head.

Maul held perfectly still even as his tongue continued to stroke Verita down from her high. With a sigh, Verita relaxed her grip on Maul’s head and opened her eyes to see Maul pressing open-mouth kisses at the inside of her thighs where his horns had dug into flesh. He was gentle as he guided Verita's leg from his shoulder and back down to the cool marble.

Rising from the ground, Maul pressed his forehead against hers and they held each other like that for a few moments, Maul's arms wrapped around Verita's torso, her hands tangled in his horns, until Verita slid a hand down Maul's torso, pressed a hand over his hardened erection and _squeezed_. 

Maul growled. "Enough." And Verita found herself thrown over his shoulder and taken into the suite. 

He was surprisingly gentle as he laid her down on the bed, crawling so he was hovering over her. His body was radiating incredible amounts of heat, but Verita had little time to contemplate it further as she met Maul's mouth again. She tasted herself on Maul’s tongue and her fingers began scrabbling desperately at his tunic, pushing the material off his shoulders and to his waist. Maul likewise tore off Verita’s gown without so much as a warning and she gasped as the cool air hit her skin, although Maul’s body heat proved more than adequate at keeping her comfortable.

“That was expensive,” she murmured and Verita felt Maul’s lips curl against the hollow in her throat as he chuckled, biting down. 

Her back arched at the sensation, pleasure and pain creating an intoxicating cocktail that was stronger than anything the galaxy could conjure and Maul took that as a signal to continue his ministrations, marking and kissing her in equal measure. He worshiped every part that he took from her and Verita was nearly delirious by the time Maul’s mouth returned to her, almost missing the fact that he was now completely bare.

He was absolutely beautiful. Red and black swirled across his body, war made flesh, and Verita could see that small silver outlines of old scars, some larger than others, that criss-crossed his body, intersecting with the tattoos to create abstract art that was better than any masterpiece Governor Haren’s gallery could hold. His cock matched the rest of his warrior physique, and Verita clenched in anticipation.

Cupping Maul’s face, she whispered, “You’re so beautiful,” and registered the absolute shock that crossed the Zabrak’s face. She didn’t know or care how many partners he’d had before her, but she wondered how many had taken the time to notice his beauty, or were too focused on their own pleasure. Either way, Maul’s gaze softened as he looked down at Verita underneath him and he nuzzled under her earlobe, a low purr escaping his throat.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispered against her skin, and in answer, one hand slid down Maul’s side, the other down his torso to take his cock in hand and give him a few, firm pumps. Maul shuddered and threw his head back at her touch. Bringing his gaze to meet hers, eyes glowing faintly in the night, the galaxy seemed to hold its breath, a moment held across time and space, as she breathed, “Yes. I...surrender.”

Maul shuddered above her at those simple words and brought his lips to hers as he whispered, “As do I...Verita.” 

Maul lined his cock up to her entrance and ever so slowly, sunk into her. Verita let out a wordless keen as he filled her and Maul groaned softly as he bottomed out and hovered above Verita on his elbows. He held there for a moment, letting her adjust, until Verita nodded and Maul began to move.

Verita had been with a number of humans, and a few aliens that had made her feel pleasure, but with Maul, it was bliss. He set a slow steady pace that had her burning for more, _more_ , but Maul was nothing if patient when he wanted to be and growled against her skin when she dug her heels into his back.

“Not yet my little Mandalorian...you had your fun, now it’s my turn, and you. will. _submit_.” he emphasized the last word with a snap of his hips against hers and Verita arched her back, whimpering softly. 

“N-never.” Verita tried to bring herself upwards to meet Maul, but a low growl and hands clasping around her wrists kept her from gaining the friction she needed and Maul kissed her, long and sensuous, tongue licking deep into her mouth.

“Stars, how are you so beautiful? What did I do to deserve you _cyar’ika_?” Maul groaned against her skin, thrusts beginning to speed up as his patience and release drew to an end.

“J-just lucky I guess,” Verita gasped. Her hands now free, as Maul had begun roaming her body, desperate to touch her more, she clutched at Maul’s back, nails digging into skin as he bit the junction between her shoulder and neck.

“The way Governor Haren was staring at you, the way they _all_ were staring at you, made me want to take you right there on the floor, to show them you belong to no one…”

“I would have let you,” Verita moaned. “Make me yours Maul...only yours.”

At her words, a growl ripped from Maul and he came, his cum filling her up. The sensation had Verita coming for the second time that night, clenching tight around Maul, her muscles milking him for all they were both worth as heavy sighs filled the space between them.

Maul caught himself before he collapsed on Verita and she pressed a kiss to his lips before gently pulling him down on top of her. She could feel the tandem beats of his hearts pressing up against her single one and sighed deeply, wrapping her arms around him. Maul didn’t say anything as he clutched her and rolled to the side, their bodies still connected. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he breathed, “ _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum_.”

Verita started. Pulling back so she could look directly into Maul’s cerulean gaze, she said, “Where did you learn that?”

Maul shrugged. “I asked Fang for a few lessons and he pulled out an entire holodeck of Mando’a.” His gaze softened as he tucked a strand of hair behind Verita’s ear. 

“I know what I said little Mandalorian; do not think the meaning of those words have escaped me...I can only hope that-”

“ _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum_ ,” Verita whispered against Maul’s ear and felt his entire body shudder as the words left her lips.

Cupping her face in his hands, Maul kissed her deeply and Verita couldn’t help feeling that, whatever happened tomorrow, Force or no, she had everything she needed in this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dedicate this chapter to the TCW casting team for allowing Maul a sexy bedroom voice and A_Spark_Of_Hope for being the world's most patient and best beta-reader as we FINALLY get to this point
> 
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum: "I love you." (lit: "I know you forever.")


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maul..?”
> 
> He didn’t have a chance to answer as, with a clicking of safeties, all the troopers on the deck turned their guns toward the pair of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright we had smut so now it’s time for some angst and tears courtesy of Order 66…but since ya’ll have been so nice, i’ll start it off with some more goodness :)
> 
> If you want some music to go with this, Samuel Kim has been a great source of inspiration for my action sequences and just tone in general: https://open.spotify.com/track/5NdEZRFct7l5XHvMytbrjf?si=tkJFWtIxRR6E_872zZLRkg

Morning came too soon and Verita groaned, rolling over and throwing the covers over her face as if they could hide the fact that a new day had begun. In the darkness, she felt warm hands engulf her torso and butterfly out over her ribcage. A small chuckle erupted from the shell of her ear as Maul rasped, "I see we're in a good mood today."

He pressed a kiss to her neck and his hands began roaming her body. There was no purpose to his movements, just simple pleasure, and Verita felt a familiar tightening in her abdomen that had become a familiar sensation in the past few hours.

"Well…" Turning under her cocoon, Verita felt her way in the covered darkness to find Maul's mouth and press a kiss against it. The Zabrak sighed and they simply held each other, mouths taking and giving to the other, hands roving lazily across bodies, until with a huff, Verita flipped off the covers.

Maul hissed at the sudden brightness, throwing a forearm over his eyes, which made Verita swinging up and straddling his hips an easy enough maneuver. In the light of day, Maul was still as beautiful as he was in darkness, more so even, and Verita leaned down to press kisses to the obsidian lines marking the Zabrak. She took her time, starting at his throat and slowly working her way down his muscular body. 

Maul was absolutely still as Vertia slid down to straddle his thighs and grin wolfishly at his obvious erection. He bucked his hips, a wordless growl escaping, but stilled as Verita's hands slid up his muscular thighs to hold his hips firmly against the mattress.

Cocking an eyebrow, she hummed. "Is something the matter Master Jedi? Something I can help you with?" She lowered her mouth to his cock as she spoke and Maul fruitlessly tried to buck his hips again as the air caressed the sensitive skin.

"Hmmm...use your words Master Jedi and maybe we'll both get what we want."

"Cruel little Mandalorian," Maul growled, but exhaled and ground out between clenched teeth, "I am yours."

“That’s right.” Verita purred softly and licked Maul's cock, tasting his and her pleasure from the night before, and, upon reaching the tip, ran her tongue around it once before straightening. 

"What are you-?" Maul gasped as Verita slid down onto his cock, throwing her head back as he filled her sensitive walls once more. She began to move, a slow rhythm that had her placing her hands on Maul's chest.

Maul's hands wrapped around her wrists and Verita watched as his eyes fluttered shut, soft exhales leaving his mouth, as he began to thrust up into her. Whimpering, Vertia began to move faster and the added stimulation had Maul surging upwards to capture Verita's mouth with his and wrapping his arms around her to hold her against his searing skin. 

The new angle had Verita’s eyes rolling back, all sense of time and space leaving her, as Maul slid a hand between their joined bodies and began circling her clit with his fingers.

"Come for me little Mandalorian, say my name."

Clutching Maul's shoulders, Verita threw her head back and a sigh of _"Maul"_ left her lips as she clenched down on Maul's cock. The Zabrak groaned at the sensation and his face settled into the crook of Verita's neck and shoulder as, with a few further thrusts, came. 

The silence between them was almost peaceful and Verita nestled into the crook of Maul’s neck, hands tracing his swirling ink lines almost absentmindedly as she slowed her breathing to match the Zabrak’s.

“You know we can’t stay here. We- _you_ have to get back to the Dac and prep for the next mission...it’s only two days out.”

Maul groaned and nibbled on Verita’s earlobe as he murmured, “I could order you to stay here with me little Mandalorian.”

“Did you forget..? I won our little contest and I certainly don’t take orders from anyone...let alone a _jetii_.”

Maul pulled his face away from Verita and she could see the beginnings of a grin forming at the corners of his mouth. 

“That certainly wasn’t the case last night, now was it?” Leaning forward, Maul nudged her nose with his, lips barely brushing, as he breathed, “I distinctly remember-”

“Has anyone told you that you talk too much?” Verita said, pressing her lips to Maul’s once more.

***

A few hours later found Verita and Maul back down at the 715th’s loading platform. Verita with her armor and Maul in new blacks. 

Verita saw Fang striding toward them and waved a hand toward the commander in greeting, while also beginning to change her trajectory toward where Pebbles, Striker, and Slider were checking a case of munitions prior to it being loaded into the carrier. 

“Go on, you’ve got work to do.”

“I had more important _work_ planned for today, but you’re relentless little Mandalorian,” Maul grumbled and Verita shot him a coy grin, sliding her helmet over her face. 

“Patience Master Jedi...all good things to those who wait.”

Walking over to the troopers, they swarmed her like a pack of Jykkle vultures, identical shit-eating grins on each of their sun-kissed faces. Verita pretended not to see them, running her hands over the cache carefully, taking note of each gun and its make and model. It was a familiar routine, one that allowed her to gather her thoughts and stiffen her back as she turned back to the men.

“Well?!” Pebbles was always the impatient one of the group and his face looked dangerously close to splitting in half with excitement and the promise of being able to torment Verita about sleeping with their commander...not that he had any proof...yet.

Shrugging blithely, thankful for the helmet concealing her features, Verita replied, “Well what?”

“Oh come on _vod_.” Striker crossed his arms over his chest. The move was meant to make him look intimidating but only served to make him look like he was holding himself together in an attempt to not spontaneously combust with anticipation.

“We saw the general’s face when you both arrived this morning...he never looks that happy unless he’s been fighting or...well that’s been about it.”

“Tell you what...you boys show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

They all looked at each other, a flush beginning to creep up their cheeks. 

“I don’t know what-”

Now it was Verita’s turn to cross her arms and fight with every molecule in her body to keep the laughter out of her helmet’s vocorecorder. 

“You mean you didn’t go to 79’s last night? I have a commander in the Coruscant guard who would happily show me the footage if I asked…”

“Kriffing Fox...fine fine!” Striker threw his arms up in mock surrender. “You win _vod_...but,” here he dropped his voice conspiratorially, “Whatever you did to make the general look happier than he has since this blasted war started, keep it up.”

“Trust me, I have...plans.”

Striker howled with laughter and even the usually taciturn Slider turned his mouth up in a smile. Pebbles threw an arm over her shoulder and said, “Well boys, it seems our illustrious general has finally met his match.” 

They all whooped as one and Verita couldn’t help the laughter that erupted from her lips. It was a strange feeling, being accepted. Death Watch had always believed in power and training their Mando’ade to fight, kill, and usurp the Duchess’ pacifist regime through whatever means necessary. Theirs was a bond forged in blood and the similar struggle they all faced, but acceptance of a different viewpoint was always regarded as dangerous and akin to treason. The Ascendancy never truly embraced her as one of their own, her only form of acceptance coming from Thrawn and Ar’alani (the latter more reluctant than the former). It had started as a means of survival, a way to avoid being tossed into the dark void of space, but over time she had grown to consider specific members of the Chiss as her own little chosen family and her heart twisted a little.

Disentangling herself from the clone’s embrace, Verita absentmindedly touched the blades at her side as she began walking back toward where Maul and Fang were deep in conversation over a holo, the schematics of their next mission reflecting against their faces. 

“Commander!”

Verita whirled to see one of the communications officers ( _Dial_ , she thought) running toward her, a look of sheer excitement and disbelief on his face. He tore past Verita and she took off after him, breaking into a light jog and stopped by Maul’s side as Dial began speaking.

“General Kenobi has defeated General Grievous on Utapau.”

Maul’s eyes widened in surprise and Verita couldn’t help the hitch in her voice as she said, “With Dooku dead alongside Grievous this war could be over-”

“-within days,” Maul finished. His eyes met hers and, through the visor, knew he could feel her looking back. If the war was over...she and Maul could be free to explore what this new thing growing between them was, with no fear of discovery or Maul agonizing over potentially leaving his brothers in undue danger from Separtist discovery.

Who was she without war? Verita never had cause to consider it and, as she looked around at the clones milling about on the deck, unaware of the fact that soon they would no longer have to watch their brothers fall and die by the thousands, she wondered if they felt the same sense of disembodied free-falling in contemplating a peaceful future. 

Squaring her shoulders, she vowed, _Whatever comes next, we do it together...the clones...and Maul_.

“Well…” for once, Fang seemed to be at a loss for words, but straightened and said, “Until we hear otherwise, we continue on.” Touching a hand to his helmet, he said, “Excuse me General, incoming transmission…”

He walked away from the duo, and Maul shook his head like a massiff clearing its ears of water. Verita dared to place a hand on Maul’s wrist, fingers lightly brushing the top of his hand. 

“Maul…”

“I know.” He seemed to be just as lost for words as her, and sighed deeply, closing his eyes and turning his face up toward the skyscrapers and complexes that made up the city-planet’s skyline.

“What will we do, little Mandalorian? It seems war is the one thing we’re both good at...well, not the only thing.” He grinned wolfishly and Verita slapped his arm lightly, laughing as she did.

“That’s hardly a feasible pastime...besides, don’t you want to see your brothers again?”

“More than anything…” Maul sighed deeply and ran a hand through his horns. Squaring his shoulders, he said, “Fang’s right, until it’s official, we still have a duty to the Republic to finish this once and for all.”

“And we’ll do it together.”

Maul smiled at her, a flash of incisors, and they began walking to the transport together. Suddenly, Maul bent double, clutching his head in what seemed to be pain, and Verita reached out to catch him. She had never seen him off-balance for a second and, as he stumbled upright, saw that his eyes had gone blank, seeing something beyond their current reality.

“Maul..?”

He didn’t have a chance to answer as, with a clicking of safeties, all the troopers on the deck turned their guns toward the pair of them. 

“What the-?”

Blaster fire erupted around them, and Verita barely had time to comprehend what was happening as Maul’s lightsaber flashed into existence and began windmilling in front of him, bolts ricocheting off the energy beam. Verita whirled and pressed her back to Maul, snatching the beskad off her back. It was no lightsaber but it stopped the bolts as they kept coming. And they didn’t stop. If anything, they became more fervent and Verita saw more and more troopers running toward their position, guns at the ready. 

What was happening to the clones? Only moments before, she had been joking and laughing with them, making plans for what they would do once the war was over...now they were single-minded in their assault and Vertia felt a true flash of fear: they were going to die.

_No. Not like this._

A sudden explosion engulfed the deck and Verita dropped to the ground. Looking up through the haze of smoke, she saw Fang, Pebbles, Slider, and Striker running through the cover, blasters drawn. Maul snarled as he whirled to strike down the clones, but Fang’s shout of “Commander wait!” had Maul pausing just long enough for Verita to get up off the ground and press the sword to the clone’s throat.

“What is happening?” she snarled and Fang shook his head. 

“No time to explain, we need to go now!” 

“And why should we trust you?”

Fang looked over Verita’s shoulder to Maul. Whatever Maul sensed had him snapping, “Verita, let him go. We need to run.”

“Where?”

“Does it matter?”

Lowering the beskad, she jerked her head, “Let’s go.”

The quintet took off at breakneck speed toward the transport shuttle at the end of the dock. Unfortunately, their race hadn’t gone unnoticed. Verita heard a wordless shout behind them and blaster fire surrounded them once more. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maul slow to the rear of the pack and begin deflecting the bolts again, covering their retreat. Fang and the other troopers sporadically returned fire as they ran, throwing smoke grenades to cover their exit. Verita knew it would be useless for her to turn and fight, so she concentrated her efforts on reaching the shuttle first to start the flight sequence and get them out and to safety. 

A shout echoed behind her and she whirled to see Striker fall to the ground, a blaster burn in the center of his chest. 

“No!” she desperately wanted to run to the fallen clone, but knew it was too late and dug into the ground deeper as the loading ramp loomed closer and closer…

A sudden explosion had Verita flying off the ground and landing heavily against a stack of crates. The wind rushed out of her and she looked blearily through her visor to see Maul roaring wordlessly as he tried to reach her, cutting through his own troops like they didn’t exist. Verita clasped a hand against one of the crates and leaned heavily against it as she struggled to her feet, breath still coming in short bursts, as another explosion rocked the ground and forced Maul back to the shuttle. 

“VERITA!” he roared, lightsaber spinning in a blur as he parried the vicious onslaught from his own men. 

“Go,” she whispered and somehow, knew he had heard as his eyes snapped to hers. She took one final look at Maul, blades whirling, gaze one of utter terror and agony, as he stepped backwards up the slowly rising ramp.

_I can't leave you here._

_You CAN and you WILL._

The door closed and, with a sudden burst of exhaust, shot upwards and away from Coruscant. The clones had seemingly forgotten about Verita, so obsessed with attacking their former commander, that she took the opportunity to steal a speeder bike off the deck. As she plunged toward the Lower Levels, Verita wondered if anything would ever be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PAAAAINNNNN Whelp, I'll see you all next week ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so if you’ve seen the arc in TCW where Maul takes over the Underworld, this is where we’re hanging. Obviously the timeline isn’t canon-compliant, but if you’ve read this far, you already know that :)

_**Two years later...Jabba’s Palace, Tatooine** _

“Honey! You’re up!” 

Na’tala’s voice echoed through the chamber and Verita took one last look in the mirror, ensuring her jewelry was polished to a high gleam, and strode through the sand-blasted archway to where the purple-skinned Twi’lek waited anxiously. She exhaled in relief as Verita came into view and cast a discerning eye over the jewels and silks Verita had adorned herself in.

“Thank the Maker.” Na’tala nodded and gestured frantically toward the hall where Verita could hear the rowdy sounds of glass breaking, curses, and above it all, the deep ‘ho-ho-ho’ of her... _employer_ was too kind a word, but anything else had cost blood and pain to allow her mind to allow other distasteful words to enter her vocabulary.

“I hope you’ve got a good one today Verita, he’s not in one of his more forgiving moods today.”

Flicking the braid over her shoulder, Verita jingled the bracelets on her wrist tantalizingly and pasted a smile on her face as she strode out toward the source of the chaos.

“Don’t I always?”

***

It was stupid of her really. After the clone’s attack, she had hurtled down to Dex’s and was met with a flurry of questions from the besalisk she hadn’t been able to answer.

“All I know Dex is that something terrible has happened, I have a target on my back, and you need to get out of here now.” Hugging her friend tightly, she watched as he was swallowed up by the crowd and turned toward the holovid above the diner's service window. Gleaming yellow eyes peered out from underneath a crimson hood as Chancellor Palpatine appeared onscreen, but his face had been scarred and twisted to a point that Verita almost didn’t recognize him as he began to address the Senate.

_‘“The Jedi hoped to unleash their destructive power against the Republic by assassinating the head of government and assuming control of the clone army...Our loyal clone troopers contained the insurrection within the Jedi Temple and quelled uprisings on a thousand worlds._

_The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated. Any collaborators will suffer the same fate...The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you my resolve has never been stronger. The war is over. The Separatists have been defeated, and the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. We stand on the threshold of a new beginning._

_In order to ensure the security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society, which I assure you will last for 10,000 years...”’_

“No!” Verita threw her helmet at the screen and the image of the new Emperor shattered into a thousand pieces. Sliding to the floor, heedless of the glass scratching her skin, Verita clutched her hair in her hands.

They had been so close. To the end of the war, to something close to happiness for the first time in her miserable existence for survival and it had all come crashing down. Verita didn't know what role Chancellor... _Emperor_ Palpatine had played, but assumed from the look of absolute triumph in his gaze, that it was either fully or partially his doing all along.

It had been two years. Two long years in which Verita had found herself captured by the same Trandoshan Maul had rescued her from what seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been so consumed with horror as she had watched the senators cheering the end of democracy as they knew it, her grief of the clones’ senseless deaths, their turn on Maul, and her subsequent exhaustion at her escape to the Lower Levels, that she had let her guard down for one second too long. It wasn’t a pleasant capture; the Trandoshan had wreaked his vengeance on the human female that had killed his brother and when Verita was finally presented to the Hutt crime lord a week later, she had been nursing five broken ribs and forced to dance for the palace crowd that very same night. 

Now...the Republic was dissolved, the Jedi dead, and Verita was still enslaved to Jabba the Hutt, new scars crossing her body where her mouth and escape attempts had failed to save her. She had been stupid, naive even, to believe that the collar around her neck was so easily broken, so she stopped. She became compliant, but even beskar could be melted and reforged...never broken. Verita became a humble dancer, grateful for each day she didn’t get fed to the Hutt’s vicious pet rancor, and plotted. She danced and danced, taking power, favors and secrets from the most notorious the galaxy had to offer, and in return had become the glittering jewel of Jabba’s Palace.

A hush ran through the crowd as Verita stepped barefoot onto the iron-wrought floor. Head lowered, hands clasped, Verita forced her breathing to remain even, her shoulders relaxed, as if one wrong move or word didn’t mean sudden death. The music began and Verita allowed muscle memory to flow through her, carrying her around the room, a saccharine smile on her lips as she stroked, flirted, and winked at some of the most dangerous individuals in the galaxy. As the music swelled, she brought her body in a sensuous twirl toward the object of her attention the past few nights.

Cad Bane didn’t move a muscle as she slid onto the bounty hunter’s lap and ran her hands over the worn and dusty leather of his coat. Smiling coquettishly at the Duros, she ran a finger over the brim of his infamous hat and slid it off his head, placing it on her own. He didn’t even flinch as she rose and finished the dance with the hat on her head, flourishing it with a bow as whistles and applause filled the room. 

Waving a hand toward Na’tala and the other dancers standing in the archway’s shadow, she waited until they had begun and then strode back over to the bounty hunter still seated at his lone table. 

“You have some guts little lady,” he rasped as Verita placed the hat on the table in front of him.

Sitting on the edge of the table, Verita shrugged blithely, eyes roaming the room and seemingly disinterested in the fact that she had courted the ire of one of the galaxy's most infamous bounty hunter with the simple gesture of stealing a hat.

“I like to think of it as a calculated risk,” she said dryly, waving a serving droid toward her and snatching some of the glowing blue spotchka from the tray. Throwing it back and grimacing, she continued, “Something I’m sure you appreciate in your line of work.”

“There's a fine line between risk and stupidity.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Verita looked sideways at Bane. “And which would you classify this as bounty hunter?”

“You’re still alive aren’t you?”

Verita laughed darkly. “You could say that.” Standing up from the edge, she dipped into an obsequious curtsey. 

“Until we meet again, bounty hunter.” Striding out onto the floor, she joined the cadre of dancers and waited.

It didn’t take long. The other dancers had left for their quarters to catch what little precious rest they could after the night’s revelry, so as the blaster’s safety clicked off in what passed as their makeup and costume area, the sound echoed loudly in the circular, sand-blasted room.

“Now this is stupidity.”

Verita didn’t turn from the vanity, but looked through the mirror to see the glowing red eyes of Cad Bane a few meters behind her. Dropping her bangles one at a time onto the table with a slow plink, she said blithely, “Good to know even the infamous Cad Bane is predictable.”

“You stole something from me little lady, that wasn’t very nice of you.”

“I gave your hat back.”

The Duros bared his sharp teeth and Verita saw the subtle shifting of his fingers on the triggers. Sighing deeply, she turned and tossed a bag of credits at his feet with a soft clink.

“Is this what you meant?”

Bane bent and swept the bag up, worn leather disappearing into his long coat, and a wry grin lifted his lips as he tipped his hat toward her. Turning away, he holstered his blasters as Verita said dryly, “A shame really that you groveled for a mere bag of credits when I can offer you something much more valuable.”

The clinking of boots stopped and Verita repressed a grin as the bounty hunter turned slowly on his heel, red eyes narrowing in the dim lighting.

“And what possibly could a mere slave have to offer me?”

Verita tutted. “Now that’s not very nice of you is it? Judging a slave by her looks? I’d have thought you knew better than that Bane.” Rising from her stool, Verita began striding around the room slowly, eyes never leaving the bounty hunter’s. 

“What do you know of beskar?”

“I know it’s one of the most durable metals in the galaxy and that the current wellspring is controlled on Mandalore.” His eyes narrowed, “What do you know of it?”

Verita laughed darkly. “Only everything and that it has been stolen from my people...a situation I intend to rectify.”

Bane laughed mockingly, the sound of gravel clashing together, as his grin sharpened. “And how do you propose to do that little...Mandalorian is it? I thought your people extinct.”

“You'll find there's a great number of things you don't know about me Bane," she spat. The endearment had Verita’s chest clenching painfully... _his voice, Maker please don't let me forget his voice_...but schooled her features into one of ambivalence as her feet took her back to the vanity. With a press of finger, a false panel clicked open and Verita saw Bane’s hands drift back toward his now-holstered blasters. 

“Oh don’t get your hat in a twist.” With a flick of her wrist, Verita tossed a silver rectangle at the bounty hunter’s feet.

As he bent to examine the metal more closely, Verita couldn’t help but hold her breath. This was it, her last gamble at freedom, and if it failed…

“This is pure beskar,” he breathed, long blue fingers curling around the metal and picking it up off the ground.

“Consider it an advancement,” Verita snapped. She didn’t want to part with what was hers and hers alone, but if she wanted to be free, she had no other option; besides, she could always kill Bane later. 

“An advancement for what?”

“For you to watch and listen...for an opportunity to help me escape. I know that’s worth more than any job the Guild can offer you, so I expect your full attention and services to this matter until its resolution.” 

Bane laughed as he pocketed the beskar. “And what’s to stop me from turning you over to your master and watching you get fed to the rancor for my own personal amusement? The beskar would still be mine.”

“Because there’s more where that came from...if you help free me, I can promise the Mandalorians will reward you accordingly. Imagine…a whole cantono of beskar. You’d never have to take another backwater job for any of these _sleemos_ again.”

Verita watched as the levers of greed and promise of power whirr through Cad Bane’s mind and straightened as he strode toward her. He stopped just before her bare feet, and leaned down, breath tickling the shell of her ear as he hissed, “You have a deal little lady, and I can already give you a timeframe for your release.”

Verita started. She knew Bane was good, but she didn’t realize he was that good. Keeping her features neutral, she said, “Oh?”

Leaning away, Bane crossed his arms and said darkly, “There’s a new player in town; one that’s been taking over the crime families one at a time the past few months. Word has it Black Sun has already pledged their allegiance to this 'Shadow Collective,' with the Pykes on their way to join as we speak. I doubt the Hutts will enter into any agreement willingly with such an upstart so it’s only a matter of time before they come here. When that happens, there will either be a bloodbath or revelry; either allows for ample opportunities for escape. Stay on guard little Mandalorian, war is coming and we all best be ready.” Tipping his hat, Cad Bane disappeared back into the shadows of the palace. 

Verita sat down heavily at the vanity, eyes unfocused as her mind wandered back to the sound of blaster fire, beskar glimmering in the haze of battle, and the humming of twin lightsabers by her side.

***

Cad Bane was as good as his word. The following weeks had Verita performing as if nothing were amiss, and at least once a week, the bounty hunter made an appearance, with Verita pretending she was his new paramour. The threat of crossing Cad Bane was a bit too much risk for the usual gamblers and scoundrels that frequented the palace so more often than not, Verita had been left to her own devices to plot potential escape routes and begin slowly stuffing a bag with what little she might need before returning to Coruscant and her armor.

“The Pykes have pledged their allegiance, with Crimson Dawn beaten into submission,” Bane hissed during one such visit as Verita lounged leisurely in the bounty hunter’s lap. His hands stroked her thighs absently as he continued. “Word has it some Mandalorians have joined the crusade...a group called Death Watch.” His crimson eyes narrowed. “Know anything about that?”

Throwing her head back and laughing as if Bane had just said something amusing, she hissed between her teeth, “Unfortunately. Who is their leader?”

“No one knows and I haven’t been able to get it out of anyone...all have chosen death over betraying their boss...whoever they are, they don’t want to be seen.” Bane’s voice filled with frustration at a job half-completed and Verita couldn’t help but genuinely chuckle at that, stroking his azure cheek with the back of her hand. 

“Don't make me regret paying you in advance Bane.” Taking a swallow of his glass, Verita stood and strode out to the center of the floor, raising her arms above her head as the music began.

She never got any further than the opening moves. The sound of blaster fire suddenly erupted from the sandblasted steps leading outside and one of Jabba's Gamoreans tumbled down with a squeal, stubby arms and legs flying everywhere.

Patrons and guards alike drew their blasters and Verita slunk back into the shadows of Bane's corner. His blasters were drawn and Vertia gestured toward one.

"Give it to me."

Crimson eyes narrowed. "What's stopping you from shooting me in the chest little lady?"

"Don't be a _di'kut_." With a single smooth motion, she snatched a blaster and pointed it directly at the archway.

"I'm desperate, not suicidal."

Bane didn't retort, merely hefted the other blaster and pushed Verita so she was slightly behind the Duros, table between her and the archway.

"I can take care of myself."

"And I want my money so keep your head down and mouth shut and wait for my signal."

Verita snapped her mouth shut, teeth grinding together as the sound of footsteps echoed down the entryway. Verita thought Jabba actually looked concerned as two Mandalorians dressed in unfamiliar red and black armor posted themselves on either side of the archway. A representative of the Black Sun and Pyke Syndicate followed respectively, a tall male human with scars on his face trailing behind that Verita assumed was some lackey for Crimson Dawn. The three crimelords walked to the center of the room and placed themselves directly in front of Jabba's platform and waited...for what?

Verita heard them before she saw them. Heavy footsteps followed by lighter ones came closer and closer and she gripped the blaster a little more securely, safety clicking off. Whoever this leader was, they would not stand in the way of her freedom. 

A gigantic male Zabrak entered the room, ocher skin and brown markings swirling across him in a familiar pattern that had Verita's heart twisting in her chest. He was easily three of Verita stacked on top of the other and she doubted even beskar could protect her from his strength. He was followed closely by a Mandalorian man wearing similar black and red armor to his _vode_...although his helmet was encased in a crown of horns.

Verita’s fingers suddenly felt numb and she nearly dropped the blaster as a surge of despair washed over her. _No...they couldn’t have_.

A final figure entered, one that was hooded and slighter than the other two men, and Verita knew by the way the crimelords reacted, that this was who they had been waiting for. The leader of this so-called Shadow Collective, come at last to make his bid for the Hutts' cooperation in his little game. Verita noted the stranger had metal prosthetic legs from the knee down and the gears moved smoothly against clothed flesh as the crimelord moved forward.

Stopping in full view of the crowd, he clasped his hands behind his back, a movement that tickled the edges of Verita's memory…

With a flick of black leather-clad hands, the crimelord revealed his face.

_Maul._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to keep the important bits for...reasons
> 
> Di'kut: idiot
> 
> Vode: gender-neutral term for brother or sister


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like two people realizing the other is alive at precisely the wrong moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, 500 hits?! Thank you so much...as a baby fic writer this means so much to me and I can't thank you all enough for coming along for the ride. <3
> 
> -Dress inspired by this Pin: https://pin.it/2tTMSkt
> 
> -Dance music inspired by "Salvation" and "Oh Lord" by In This Moment in that particular order if you want an idea of the ambiance I'm trying to evoke

__

__

_Maul._

A wordless roar filled Verita's ears as she watched Maul's mouth move without hearing a single word.

_Maul is alive? How...why...where has he been? What happened to his legs and-?_

Verita became aware of Bane watching her out of the corner of his eye and she forced herself back into the present conversation taking place.

Maul had finished speaking and was eyeing the Hutt with barely-concealed contempt. Jabba looked as nonplussed as ever as he strung a sentence of Huttese too quick for Verita to translate. However, the protocol droid stepped forward and said lightly, “The Hutt families will be pleased to join you.”

The horned Mandalorian and the other Zabrak shifted slightly, barely concealing their glee, but Maul’s eyes simply narrowed as he nodded sharply and spun on his heel in preparation to leave, but the droid continued. 

“The almighty Jabba would be pleased if you would stay and celebrate this new partnership of our great organizations.”

Verita’s grip tightened on the blaster. Jabba had formed it in such a way that _seemed_ that refusing was an option, but she knew that if Maul even hinted at turning down the invitation, the floor beneath him would open and she would be powerless to save him.

Turning back to the crimelord, Maul didn’t say a word, but nodded sharply. At the gesture, Jabba raised his stumpy arms and bellowed out a phrase Vertia was all-too familiar with. Placing the blaster down on the table next to Bane, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and, meeting the Duros’ gaze, simpered, “Duty calls.”

***

Verita huddled at the center of the dancers. All hooded, all identical, they moved as one to the center of the palace floor. The lanterns had been dimmed so only the faintest glow illuminated the space, with thick shadows that threw the room into something out of an old wives’ tale. Nocturnal frequenters’ eyes were the only other light source and Verita saw Cad Bane’s crimson gaze from one corner and, at Jabba’s right hand, Maul.

He lounged on a throne, one leg propped up and golden eyes glowing faintly in the darkness like a Loth-cat. Unlike the Loth-cat, they were full of barely repressed contempt for everyone in the vicinity. It might be called Jabba's Palace, but Maul's body language made his absolute dominance of the room and its inhabitants abundantly clear. Verita shuddered and twisted her hands in the fabric of the cape as she felt Maul's gaze flicker toward her and then away...seeing nothing more than another hooded, faceless dancer.

Reaching the center of the room, the dancers surrounding Verita dropped to their positions, revealing Verita in the middle, still hooded, arms raised. The music began, a small tinkling of chimes and voices from a language known only to a few. As Verita began moving, she saw Maul and the other Zabrak straighten slightly; the language was Dathomirian and was part of an old spell to evoke both sensuous emotion and primal lust. Verita was the only one besides the two Zabraks who knew what it truly signified and, while no one here knew the old ways or could use magik itself, Verita could feel the energy in the room shift and turn with every addition to the cacophony of noise now surrounding the dancers. As the tempo increased, so did the dancer’s movements; a flash of skin here, a gentle stroke there...the tension was reaching a boiling point, and with a final pounding of drums, Verita threw off her hood.

***

Maul thought he was in a spice dream; first the dancers, then the music, and then... _Verita_. She was alive...and how? The Force must be playing a cruel trick on him, one last jab to bring full circle to Maul’s suffering. 

It certainly looked like her: same hair, same dark eyes that could shift from amusement to death in a heartbeat, same mouth that could wound with a few sharp barbs, but then just as easily soothe with a kiss. Maul had spent so many nights committing her to memory, trying to hold onto what little he had left of her, that actually _seeing_ her seemed more of a dream than his own recollections. But as this doppelganger began to move, body swaying to the drumbeats, he knew with a sudden flash a clarity, it was _her_. No one else Maul had met had the same control or aggression to their body that she did and, as she spun in the dim lighting, saw scars crossing her exposed arms and back that he didn’t remember and his grip tightened on the chair, wood creaking underneath leather-clad hands. Whatever they had done to her, putting this collar around his _cyari’ka’s_ throat, would pay it back a thousand in blood and suffering beyond comprehension and Maul would make sure that Verita was there to do the honors herself.

***

Verita saw Maul’s eyes widen as he saw her. Confusion, denial, then...recognition flickered through his gaze in a span of seconds and Verita almost sobbed. _He remembered_. It was so stupid...in the deepest, darkest parts of her heart, acknowledged only when she was sure she wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces, she had truly thought she was nothing, a nobody in the galaxy, forgotten in the throes of a new empire and her position in life. To be seen by another, to be recognized for who she truly was and not the silks on her skin and collar at her throat, had her almost running toward the throne.

Pulling herself back, she swayed to the music, letting it fill her senses. Swinging her hips, she traveled the length of the room, paying particular attention to the crimelords near the throne. Steeling herself, she forced her smile to remain the same as it had been for the others: filled with promise and barely-restrained lust as she curtsied low to Maul and ran the back of her hand across his cheek. He didn’t so much as move, but Verita saw the subtle shift in his gaze as their skin touched. Turning away, she brought her body back to the center of the room and finished: head bowed, kneeling on the ground with her hands tucked to her chest as if in prayer. 

The lights went completely off and in the darkness, the dancers made their exit, applause and cheers filling the space. Verita made sure all were accounted for and signaled for the Gammorean in charge to bring the lights back up to full power. As the party began, the dancers began reentering the floor, smiling and hoping to find company for the night. Verita waited in the shadows until the last had entered, then made her entrance. She knew the deep red and gold gown she had chosen for the dance number and the following revelry drew eyes and relished the feeling of Maul’s on her as she purposefully strode past him and toward Cad Bane. 

Taking the proffered drink from the Duros, she sipped it, deliberately keeping her back to where Jabba sat. The bounty hunter chewed on his toothpick as he looked over her shoulder.

"Looks like someone is _very_ interested in you little lady." His eyes narrowed. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"Change of plans Bane." Downing the drink, Verita exhaled and squared up to the Duros. 

"I need you to get me to the boss."

"And why is that?"

Verita paused. Telling Cad Bane something he could potentially use as leverage against her could prove to be a problem later on down the road...however, the promise of beskar and the protection of the Collective could prove too valuable to pass up.

"We...knew each other...before," she gestured vaguely at nowhere. "I'm curious to see if our previous partnership still stands."

"And what about ours?"

"Bane, if I can manage to get this boss's favor, you will have the protection of the largest organized crime syndicate in the galaxy, not to mention the beskar I promised."

Bane was silent for a moment, chewing the toothpick as he weighed and calculated. "Yeah sure, c'mon girl."

"Wha-"

Bane snatched the collar around Verita's throat and she had to practically jog to keep it from choking her as they weaved their way through the ever-increasing drunken revelers and toward the dias.

The Hutt and Zabrak were the only two still clear-eyed as Bane tossed Verita toward the two aliens. Her palms slammed onto Jabba’s stone dias and Verita assumed a posture of submission, curling her back and looking through her curtain of hair at the three aliens.

Jabba looked startled for a moment, but then let out a string of Huttese that Verita roughly translated to "What's she doing here?"

"I noticed this one," Bane jabbed a finger toward Maul, "Eyeing _her_. Don't know if you told him Jabba but she's bought and paid for...at least for a while. Although, in the spirit of celebration I was feeling generous and thought to loan her to our newest guest as a token of appreciation."

"And _who are you_?" Maul growled.

This was the first time Verita had heard him speak since coming to the palace and she clenched her fists tightly. His voice was as rich as she remembered, but there was an undercurrent of quiet danger beneath the timbre that had her involuntarily tensing, waiting for the snake to strike.

"Cad Bane at your service." He tipped his hat toward Maul, who simply muttered, "A bounty hunter…"

Jerking his chin toward Verita, Cad Bane slipped back through the crowd. Verita knew he wouldn't go far; while Bane didn't harbor any romantic feelings for her, he was nothing if pragmatic and would ensure her survival until he was paid in full. That knowledge had her straightening from her hunched position on the dais and turning slowly to face Maul.

"My lord." Dipping into a deep curtsey, she held it until Maul's leather-clad hands clutched underneath her chin and pulled her upright. Verita held absolutely still as Maul's gaze raked over her face and she stared hungrily back at him, soaking in every feature she had committed to memory years ago.

"Do you have a name slave?" His face was mere inches from hers and she could feel his breath caress her mouth.

"Verita, my lord."

The grip on her chin grew fractionally tighter, but Maul's face didn't change as he said, "Sit with me."

He walked back to his throne-like chair and looked at her expectantly. 

His golden eyes narrowed. "Are you deaf slave? Sit." He patted his lap and Verita felt her face flush even as she strode forward and settled onto Maul's lap without a single word.

The entertainment now over, Jabba turned back to his monkey lizard and the unfortunate Twi'lek in charge of meeting his needs for the night, which meant Maul and Verita were for all intents and purposes invisible, no more important than the other drunken revelers around them.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Verita very determinedly facing forward and Maul as still as a statue beneath her. The rising and falling of his chest against her back was Verita's only indication that he was still alive and, as his breath tickled her cheek, she nearly yelped in surprise.

"You're alive."

"So are you…"

A chuckle rumbled against her back. "Don't sound so surprised, _cyar'ika_...I might think you don’t like me. The lengths I have gone to ensure my survival may surprise even you."

"Showing up as a crime boss who almost shot my employer wasn't enough? Good to know your sense of theatrics is still intact Maul."

Verita tensed as Maul’s hands suddenly clasped her thighs and ran slowly up the length of her waist, engulfing her ribcage. The sensation of the cool leather through the thin silk of her dress had Verita involuntarily rolling her head back to settle in the crook of Maul's neck. His lips brushed the juncture of her neck and shoulder as he whispered, "I see your smart mouth hasn't changed...what else I wonder?"

His hands roamed back down her torso to her thighs, where Verita realized she had been clenching them together as she sat on Maul's lap. Leather-clad fingers curled against the sensitive flesh as Maul ever-so-slowly spread them apart. His grip was firm and Verita could feel the indentations they were making against her skin and nearly snapped her legs shut again at the pulse that rocked through her core at the thought of Maul leaving his mark. Keeping one hand on her thigh, the other drifted toward her core and Verita couldn't help but hiss between her teeth and buck her hips slightly as one leather-clad finger brushed over her cunt.

"Good to know ," Maul murmured against her earlobe. His hands disappeared and Verita nearly whined at their loss, but instead sat back up and schooled her features into one of consternation.

"And what of you my lord?"

She didn’t turn but out of the corner of her eye, saw Maul cock an eyebrow.

"What of you...is everything alright?" As she spoke, she turned slightly toward the crime lord and ran her hands down his chest.

"Everything is-" he cut off with a hiss as Verita palmed his cock, baring her teeth in a feral grin as Maul’s hands tightened on the throne's armrests. Leaning toward him, Verita whispered, "Good to know." With a final squeeze, she removed her hands and turned away from Maul, ignoring the growl he let out as she did.

"Come to my quarters tonight," he hissed against the nape of her neck and Verita felt her flesh rise where his breath touched.

"No."

Verita yelped as Maul suddenly picked her up and spun her so she was forced to straddle his hips on the throne. His eyes burned like the lava flats of Mustafar as he growled, "You _will_ -"

"What? Obey you? Bow to your every whim and need _master_?" The last word came out as a snarl and even Maul looked taken aback at the venom in her voice.

Sucking in a deep breath, Verita forced her voice low to remain covered by the party's noise as she ground out between clenched teeth, "I have spent the last two years thinking you dead Maul and now you come here, alive and demanding things of me? It makes no no better than the Nightsisters you claim to hate...it will be as equals or not at all." 

Swinging her leg, Verita left Maul’s lap and strode out of the room, head high and back straight. She didn't dare look back as muscle memory guided her feet back to her quarters. Only once the door slid shut did Verita let out the breath she had been holding. It was a dangerous gamble; Maul clearly had changed, but so had she and Verita wondered if either of them would be what the other needed in this new world. He could easily leave her on this dustball of a planet and she would be back to square one, albeit with a debt to repay to a bounty hunter notorious for taking the next best thing as it came.

Exhaling deeply, Verita began unwinding her hair and dropping bangles onto her small table. None of the outfits were hers, on loan from the Hutt and billed toward a debt that she could never repay. The cheap metal clinked loudly in the silence and Verita, so lost in her own thoughts, almost didn't hear the door slide open.

Never turning, Verita looked up through the mirror to see Maul standing in the archway and his face was as sheepish as Verita had ever seen it. He made no move to enter, his strange golden eyes watching as Verita finished removing the jewelry and continued to sit, her back to him.

The silence was a sharp as a knife between them, the years of separation not easily giving way to the comfortable companionship they once shared, and Verita was acutely aware of how their stations had changed: she now a slave (in name only, she refused to allow her Mandalorian pride to break so easily), and Maul...something both worse and different than before. His stillness, once so peaceful, was now fraught with tension, a coiled wire ready to break, and Verita wondered what would happen when it did.

Maul opened his mouth to speak, but Verita beat him to it.

"Save your excuses and apologies," she snarled, whirling to face him. Maul didn't move a muscle as Verita stalked forward and pushed on his chest as hard as she could. 

"You. Absolute. Kriffing. _Shabuir. Osi'kovid! Usen'ye!"_

Verita knew Maul didn't understand half of what she said but got the gist as she punctuated each word with a shove until they were in the long empty hallway, words bouncing off the sandstone.

Maul didn’t resist her blind rage and that only served to make her even more angry. Verita snarled, lips pulling over her teeth. She didn't know where the onslaught of emotion was coming from, but she let it fill her up and consume her as she kept yelling.

"Where were you?! You left and then I was alone...I was captured, beaten, and sold into slavery while you...you were busy playing king and god with your little underworld buddies."

 _"Don't,"_ Maul growled, his voice as low and as dangerous as Verita had ever heard.

She sneered. "Don't _what_? Tell you the truth? You could've at least tried to look for me. Instead-"

"I DID AND THEY TOLD ME YOU WERE DEAD!"

Verita stopped, breathing hard. Maul's roar echoed down the hallway and she hadn't realized she had backed him against the wall with her shoves. Maul looked as if the words had been ripped from his body and eyes were blazing as he whispered, "They told me you were dead." He clutched his horns in his hands and groaned.

"I _did_ look for you, for over a year. The chaos that followed our separation was...disorienting and I knew that there was opportunity to thrive, but I needed help. I immediately started trying to find you but it was as if you simply never existed. At first I thought it was you hiding from the _Empire_.” Maul's lip curled into a snarl, but hurried on as he saw Verita open her mouth.

“But then I realized the silence had gone on too long. You knew the codes, knew how to make any contact untraceable...it was worrying but there was little I could do at the time. The clones and I didn’t have much in the way of survival or allies when we left Coruscant so we managed to find our way to Mandalore and there we were able to... _persuade_ Death Watch to give us shelter. From there it was a matter of amassing resources and allies….through any means necessary. As I organized the cartels, I put a massive bounty out for you to be captured alive in the hope that someone would catch you...or that you would see it and know it was me.

You need to know _cyar’ika_...I never stopped looking for you, never stopped thinking about you. With every day that passed and you weren’t found, fear grew in me...fear I turned into a weapon, a means to seize control and find you…” Maul swallowed hard. “No matter what those results would yield.” 

Verita didn't say anything, the fight leaving her body. While she couldn't fully forgive Maul for not coming sooner, at least she understood what had happened in the interim.

Maul shifted slightly, an uncharacteristic nervousness to his body language, as Verita continued to stay mute. She stepped forward slowly, eyes never leaving his as they glowed faintly in the dim hallway. Maul didn't seem to be breathing as Verita stopped so they were chest to chest, the barest millimeter of distance between their faces. 

Baring her neck wordlessly to Maul, she felt the faintest brush of leather against her throat as, with a click, the collar fell to the sand with a muffled _thump_. Slave collars were a cruel form of punishment and the Hutts especially took great pride in their use. Any attempt to remove the shackle resulted in a shock that steadily got stronger the more one resisted, and Verita had seen some succumb to heart failure rather than spend another minute with the metal around their throat. The fact that Maul had so easily removed it from her was a testament to his power and Verita's absolute trust in the Zabrak that he wouldn't harm her. 

Verita didn't move as she watched Maul ever-so-slowly remove the gloves, leather falling to the ground beside the collar. He had a few rings adorning the digits and the metal was cool against her skin as Maul brushed the scar that crossed the horizon of her throat, a memento to her numerous escape attempts and subsequent punishments at the Hutts’ hand. His skin was as warm as she remembered and Verita's eyes closed slightly as they traced the thickened and ropy flesh.

Maul growled. "I will kill them for what they did to you _cyar'ika_."

Lolling her head so she could meet Maul's gaze, she whispered, "I'd rather do the honors myself."

Maul surged forward and kissed...more like _devoured_ her. Verita's hands shot up and clutched at Maul's horns, earning a rumble from the Zabrak that went straight to her core. His hands traveled from her face down to her ass, clutching the flesh and pulling her flush against him. Verita gasped at the sensation that quickly turned to a moan that Maul swallowed with his tongue in her mouth. It was as if he couldn’t get enough; as if he was attempting to memorize the sight, smell, sound, and taste of her in their years apart and Verita matched him in eagerness, grinding down lightly on Maul’s erection she could feel pressing into her abdomen.

"Maul…" she breathed. "It's been so long...I need you. _Now_."

Maul didn't say a word, merely tightened his grip, and they stumbled the short distance back to Verita's room, lips never leaving her skin. Every place his mouth touched seared Verita until she felt like the thin silk she had on was too much.

Maul laid her down on the small bed and, without any preamble, ripped the red and gold silk off her body. She sighed and looked up at the Zabrak towering over her at the foot of the bed. Maul cocked an eyebrow at her evident amusement, and Verita said, "That was expensive...am I going to have to own two of everything just to avoid having my favorite gowns shredded?"

"You needn't worry little Mandalorian...when you're queen, money is no object."

 _Queen._ Verita couldn't help the small hitch in her breath and Maul's grin grew absolutely feral as he sensed her arousal. Clutching her ankles, he yanked her to the edge of the bed, her hips barely on the thin mattress, and slowly sank to his knees.

As Maul wrapped his hands around the inside of her thighs and spread them apart, Verita couldn't help the shudder that went through her body as the cool desert night air hit her core. Yes, she had touched herself a few times since her enslavement, but most of the time had been too exhausted at the end of the days to do anything else besides sleep. Plus it just wasn't the same and found she was clenching in anticipation as Maul raised an eyebrow at her soaking core.

"Eager are we?" He lowered his mouth to her thighs and pressed open-mouthed kisses onto the sensitive flesh, his tongue leaving a trail that went, higher, higher…

He paused, very nearly there, and Verita nearly cried at the sensation of his breath across her cunt. 

"Use your words little Mandalorian…"

"Fuck, Maul…" He had never been much of a tease before, always so eager to get what he wanted, but Verita both liked and loathed this new Maul; he played to the part of her that wanted to dominate and be dominated and this little game was going to end with someone on top and Verita wanted to make sure it was _her_. 

"Worship your queen," she breathed. Maul growled and licked a line up her core that had Verita grasping the sheets, twisting the thin material so hard she feared it would tear. From then on, it was fingers, tongue, and heat. Maul remembered exactly what she liked and Verita couldn't do much else besides gasp and moan, words caught in her throat as Maul worshiped her exactly as she asked.

"Maul...I'm...close," she gasped, hips bearing down on the mattress. 

A low rumble escaped the Zabrak but he didn't stop his ministrations as he rasped, "Come for me Verita... _now_."

Arching her back, Verita clamped down hard on Maul's head, pleasure blinding her as Maul stroked her through her orgasm. This was better than anything she'd had in years and it took a few minutes to regain control of her body. Opening her eyes, she saw that Maul had freed himself from her vise and had stripped his clothing away. 

He was as beautiful as she remembered. Red and black created a swirling matrix across his body and where flesh met metal at his knees was seamless and Verita appreciated how the angular metal joints seemed to fuse perfectly with his warrior body.

Maul shifted under Verita's perusal and she noted a look of what almost was discomfort flicker across his features.

"If you don't...if these-" Maul cut off as Verita slid off the bed and, in one smooth motion, settled at Maul's feet. 

Stroking the cool metal, she murmured, "It's perfect...you're perfect." 

Straightening, she licked a long, slow stripe across his cock and Maul groaned, throwing his head back and tangling Verita's hair in his hands.

" _Cyar'ika_ ," he groaned as Verita eased him into her mouth. He was large, the ridges making it a challenge, but Verita allowed herself a smug grin as she began moving. Maul simply gripped her hair tighter, as if it would bring her closer to him in a false parody of what they both truly desired.

Pulling back, she watched as Maul’s eyes opened and he growled, “What-?” 

With a single motion, Verita swept Maul’s legs out from underneath him and, as he landed on the bed, straddled his torso and put her hands on his chest, holding him down. The move took less than a second, and Maul was still so dazed from her ministrations, that it took a moment for him to realize his new position. Narrowing his eyes, he grasped her hips and Verita felt the metal of his rings indent the soft flesh and dug her fingernails into the muscle of his chest in response.

Instead of his usual hissing and growling, Maul's lips curled slowly as he looked Verita up and down. His hands roamed; over her ribcage, up her chest, neck, arms, and back to settle at her hips. He seemed to have gotten over his surprise and now couldn't seem to get enough, Verita merely enjoying the sensation of his calloused hands scraping across her body.

Finally his hands settled, one at her hip, the other lightly around her throat. Chuckling softly at how Verita's eyes narrowed at this shared dominance between them, Maul growled with a smile that showed his incisors, _"There you are…"_

Leaning forward, so her nipples brushed his chest, Verita breathed against the shell of his ear, " _Here I am_...and I'm never letting you go again."

Straightening, Verita rose so she could line herself up to Maul’s cock and threw her head back as she slowly sank down. He felt just as good... _better_ than she remembered and nearly came right then and there as she watched Maul roll his head back, baring his neck, horns shredding the pillow beneath him, and his grip tightening involuntarily on her neck and hips.

Verita's eyes rolled back at the sensation, clutching Maul's wrist with one hand as the other braced against his chest as she began to move.

It was slow, languorous, two bodies moving as one after years apart. Despite his earlier impatience, Maul seemed perfectly satisfied letting Verita control the pace. Perhaps it was because he asserted so much of it in his everyday that with her, he truly felt safe enough to let go...either way, Verita simply closed her eyes and allowed a soft moan to escape as Maul met her with a thrust that hit a particularly good spot inside her. 

A fire began to coil in her belly, and Verita ground out, "Maul...I need to-"

She didn't have a chance. Maul's gaze immediately darkened and a feral grin split his face. 

_"Finally."_

He surged upwards and captured Verita's mouth, tongue delving deep to swallow her moans. He pulled out from her and Verita nearly threw herself back onto the Zabrak in sheer desperation, but Maul clutched her waist and spun her so her back slammed against his chest. She could feel his slick cock pressing against her lower back and arched wordlessly, as if body language alone could convey her desperate need.

Maul's hands found her abdomen and neck, one ringed hand wrapping itself lightly around her throat, as the other settled on her abdomen, pulling her flush against him. A chuckle rasped against the shell of her ear as Maul said, "As much as I enjoyed seeing you above me, I think it's time we remind ourselves who is really in control." The hand around her abdomen disappeared and Verita knew Maul was lining up his cock against her aching core and threw her head back to meet the Zabrak in a desperate kiss.

Tongues danced against the other as Maul began thrusting into Verita from behind, hand never leaving her throat. Trailing the other back down her abdomen, he began circling her clit and Verita bit Maul's lip in response, earning a hiss from the Zabrak as he snapped his hips faster.

“I see the Mandalorian needs. one. last. _lesson_.” Maul growled and sunk his teeth into the juncture of Verita’s neck and shoulder and she screamed, second orgasm crashing over her in a blinding haze of pure pleasure and pain. Maul held her close as he found his own release, his grip nearly suffocating in the haze of her high, and Vertia found herself thankful for Maul’s strength as what little energy she had left disappeared and slumped boneless into his embrace.

The air was hazy with the smell of sex and sweat as Maul gently disentagled their limbs and settled Verita onto the small bed. She couldn’t do much else besides watch as Maul padded to the small basin she was given in substitution for showers and took a rag from the bowl and settled back next to her, running the cool water over her body. 

Leaning down and pressing a kiss to the mark that would inevitably bruise tomorrow morning, Maul murmured, “Are you all right? I-”

Verita turned and gently ran a finger across the red and black tattoos across Maul’s face, settling at his lips to silence him. 

“Has anyone told you that you talk too much?”

A small smile flickered across the Zabrak’s lips. “Not to my face and if they did, they regretted it.”

“Mhmph. I’m sure.” Rolling so her back was to Maul, Verita reached behind and patted the thin mattress.

It barely fit the two of them, Maul’s body taking up over half of the cot, but Verita didn’t mind as she pressed herself against his warmth. Maul’s arms snaked around her and settled at her abdomen. Eyes heavy, Verita was about to drift off when they suddenly snapped open. 

Maul, ever attuned, shifted slightly and whispered, “What is it? Is everything alright?”

Stifling a giggle, Verita said, “Are you... _purring_?” The low, steady rumble reverberated against her back and she tilted her head to see almost an embarrassed look on Maul’s face.

“It’s involuntary...a rather unique trait of my people. It only happens with someone we deem safe enough to allow our more... _natural_ side out.”

“Maul…” wriggling so she was facing him, Verita cupped Maul’s face in her hands and kissed him deeply. It wasn’t the passion-fueled animalistic embrace of prior, but it somehow held more emotion to it than their love-making. The purring in Maul’s chest amplified as Verita pulled away and pressed her forehead to Maul’s. 

“You may be a _di’kut_ at times and I may still be upset at you letting me think you dead for two years, but never once did I ever stop thinking about you. I hoped against all hope, against all the stars in the galaxy that said otherwise, that you were alive and would find your way back to me. _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”_

Maul shuddered at her words, dipping his head to rest on her chest. His voice was as soft as Verita had ever heard as he spoke. “I never stopped thinking about you _cyar’ika_. I held onto the memory of you so tightly, it began to slip through my fingers, and when I saw you, dancing like a burning flame...I thought I was hallucinating. Surely, the Force wouldn’t be so cruel as to make me think you alive when everything pointed to your being gone...but I was wrong. Oh, I was so wrong cyar’ika and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you...starting here and now with your freedom. _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”_

They spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s embrace, and for once, Verita thought she understood the connection Maul had with the Force. She could feel every life, from Maul’s fiery ember, to the womp-rat outside her cell (for that’s what it was), to every breath of wind through the small window high above her, and Maul’s breath as it caressed her skin, slowly evening out and turning to true sleep. For her part, Verita didn’t sleep for a long while, afraid that she would drift off and find this all to be nothing more than an elaborate spice dream designed to torture and break her at last...for gaining and then losing Maul again would be the cord that would snap her tenuous grip on reality and send her spiraling down forever into the darkness. 

As her eyes became heavy, Verita swore to every Mandalorian god she knew that nothing would ever separate her from Maul again.

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Refresher:
> 
> Shabuir: motherfucker
> 
> Di'kut: idiot
> 
> Usenye - "Go away!" (Obscene)
> 
> Osi'kovid: shithead
> 
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: I love you (I know you as my own)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed (or not) that I've updated my chapter count. At first I wasn't sure how long this was going for or where, but as I've been writing, sixteen is the happy conclusion that I'm landing on and I'm excited for you all to travel with me to the end of this story. Don't worry...there's already another one in the works ;)

Verita was jerked abruptly out of sleep by a thrashing behind her. Old instincts kicked in and she sat upright, a shard of metal she had snuck underneath her pillow held out in front of her defensively. It took her sleep-addled brain a moment to realize that the threat was nonexistent and the source of her abrupt removal from rest was Maul.

He was tense, every cord and sinew of his body locked tight, and a look of utter agony was etched across his features. His eyes were still closed, but Verita could see through the thin membrane of skin, his eyes flickering back and forth rapidly. Maul thrashed again, his back arching as he howled wordlessly in an animalistic scream. 

“Maul! Maul, wake up!” Unthinkingly, Verita touched Maul and found her wrist locked in a vise so tight, her fingers immediately started to go numb. Twisting her wrist against Maul’s thumb, she rolled out of the grip and scrambled toward the end of the bed. Maul was still locked in his nightmare, now thrashing wordlessly against the sheets. Verita tore out into the hallway; it was empty, silent after a night of revelry and debauchery. She was just about to return into the room and find something heavy to throw at Maul from a safe distance, when the sound of thundering footsteps echoed down the corridor.

The enormous Zabrak Verita had seen the night before barreled down the hall and wordlessly shoved past Verita and into the room. His yellow eyes flickered over Maul, assessing the situation, and then, grunting, slapped Maul as hard as he could. The resounding crack echoed through the space and Verita sucked in a breath as Maul woke up and threw the Zabrak against the wall with the Force. Cracks spiderwebbed out from where the enormous body met the soft stone and, to Verita’s surprise, he didn’t struggle against it, merely gazed intently at Maul with a look that told Verita that this had happened before and was merely riding the wave of agitated disorientation arising from Maul’s abrupt return to consciousness.

Maul’s hand was stretched out in front of him in a claw, teeth pulled back in a wordless snarl, golden eyes still unfocused but blazing. The bigger Zabrak was still staring at Maul, head tilted slightly, assessing, and then grunted a single syllable. 

_“Brother.”_

With a shudder, Maul’s eyes focused and came back to the reality surrounding him: the ochre Zabrak still held against the wall by the Force and Verita, wrapped in a thin bed sheet that did little to hide her silhouette, knife held out in front of her.

Turning back to the larger Zabrak, Maul looked at his hand, then his... _brother_ Verita assumed and, with a flick of his fingers, the man dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Maul didn’t say a word, merely shuddered and weaved his fingers through his horns and bent his head silently. Looking over at the other, Verita caught his gaze and Zabrak wordlessly jerked his head toward the doorway. Verita followed the larger man out into the corridor, pressing keys that had the door shutting silently behind her, still wrapped in her sheet. 

The man took a few silent strides down the hallway, Verita trotting to keep up, and nearly slammed into his back as he abruptly stopped and spun to face her. Up close, he was even bigger than Verita had assumed from a distance. Her head barely cleared his elbow and his broad frame made it seem he was taking up over half of the hallway as his silhouette filled her view. He was looking down at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity, yellow eyes searching her up and down, and Verita instinctively pulled the bedsheet a little closer. While she didn’t think he’d harm her, he had an aura of barely-controlled violence surrounding him, a stark difference in Maul’s leonine danger he exuded simply by existing in a space. Whereas Maul’s violence was strategic, controlled, and deliberate, Verita had the sense that if this man decided to go on a rampage, nothing short of a lightsaber across the neck would stop him...even then she doubted anyone could get close enough to try. 

“You are...Verita?” His voice matched his stature: low, gravelly, and baritone-deep. It reverberated in Verita’s chest and she straightened herself to her full (if short) height and replied evenly, 

“Yes...and you are Maul’s brother?”

“Savage.” A sibilant murmur came from behind and Verita turned to see that Maul had emerged from her room. He was still shirtless, tattoos on full display, but had managed to find his trousers and boots as he walked toward the pair of them, hands clasped behind his back. Verita noticed he very deliberately avoided eye contact with her as he came abreast to the pair of them and continued.

“After...everything, I traveled to where my brother’s had been safely ensconced away from the war and the Nightsisters and asked them to join me. Thankfully they did and have been most valuable in aiding me in my control of the syndicates. Savage is...persuasion when individuals deem a bit difficult and Feral is our bookkeeper...no one is better than him with numbers and rooting out those trying to skim a little extra off the top for their own profit.”

“And you?” Verita put the smallest hint of teasing into her tone, hoping it would serve to lighten Maul’s dark mood. 

“I...I am _everything_ ,” he growled and Verita saw his eyes flash in the early sun’s light as they narrowed dangerously.

Deciding that it was time to change the subject, Verita said lightly, “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you Savage, I hope to talk to you again.”

Savage grunted wordlessly and looked down at his brother. Maul jerked his head toward the hall that Verita knew led to Jabba’s throne room and out into the early morning Tatooine heat.

“Go. Ready the men for departure. Tell Voss he can go back to the _First Light_ and continue with the original plan now that we have what we need.”

Savage turned on his heels and stomped down the hallway, leaving Verita and Maul alone. The silence between them was awkward, and whether it was because Maul was embarrassed by his actions earlier or the fact that his brother had seen her naked, she didn’t know, but spun on her heel as well and marched back to the room. She didn’t look behind her but the quiet whirring of mechanics hinted that Maul had followed behind wordlessly. 

Once the door had shut behind him, she turned and saw that Maul was still very deliberately not meeting her gaze. Sighing deeply, she snapped, “Maul.” His gaze flickered ever-so-slightly to her, but didn’t remain.

“Stupid Zabraks and their stupid pride.” Dropping the sheet, she strode over to him and clutched his face in her hands, forcing his gaze on her. She had seen many looks on Maul’s face in her time with him: anger, lust, amusement, but never shame. His species didn’t know the meaning of that word, as prideful as they were, and Verita’s heart twisted painfully as she saw it reflected back to her.

“Verita...I’m so sorry for this morning. I shouldn’t have-”

“You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was.” Sighing deeply, Maul shuddered and Verita was silent as he continued, his face still clutched between her fingers. 

“I have done many terrible things to get here Verita. The amount of blood on my hands could drown a planet...and I don’t regret any of them. They were necessary for my survival, my rise through the syndicates, and bringing me back to you. The Force has a funny way of coming full circle and, though my conscious is clean, I have dreams...dreams of the things I have done coming back to those I care for. Savage and Feral were the main focus of them...until yesterday.” His hands moved to clasp Verita’s wrists and his gaze was agonizing as he whispered, “The things they made me do to you...the way you screamed, begged, and pleaded with me to stop....I heard them all but I liked what I was doing...causing you the most immeasurable pain brought me joy...that is my nightmare.”

_“Cyar’ika…”_ Verita pressed her lips to Maul’s bowed head and murmured against the skin. “It was only a dream…”

“But what if it wasn’t?” Maul pushed himself away from her and went to sit on the bed, clutching his horns in his hands.

“Before the Purge, I had dreams about it...about the rise of the dark and the immeasurable suffering that was to follow and I did _nothing_. I could have stopped it...what’s to say that this won’t come true as well? I have many enemies Verita, many who will soon know about you and to think that one of them could force me to hurt you in that way…”

“You forget my love that I am far from defenseless. I have suffered worse than being at the mercy of a dream and it does us no good to dwell on what could be or has been.” 

Striding over to Maul, Verita tangled her fingers with his in his horns and pressed her forehead against his as she murmured, “I am here now...we have always been better together than apart. I know what I’m getting myself into the moment I step out of these palace walls and believe me, I will suffer every hardship the universe can throw at me as long as you are by my side. Not even the Force will separate us now...or ever again.” She slid an edge of steel into the last few words and her tone had Maul looking up at her, face inches apart.

“You have the heart of a warrior _cyar’ika_ …”

“And that’s why you love me.”

“That and...other reasons,” Maul grinned wolfishly and snatched Verita onto his lap, her legs straddling his clothed ones. He seemed to force himself to push aside his dark mood as fingers splayed out across her torso. 

Verita’s core had immediately begun to throb as the friction of her clit rubbed against the material of Maul’s pants. Rolling her hips, she sighed as Maul’s hands wandered to her chest and pinched her nipples. The mix of pleasure and pain rocked through her and Vertia bit her lip to hold in the moan that threatened to escape; she didn’t know when Savage was going to return but the thought of them being seen like this only served as fuel to the fire beginning to tighten in her abdomen as her hips pushed and rolled against the firm muscle of Maul’s thighs.

“Such a sight,” he murmured, lips brushing gently across hers. “Is there something you need little Mandalorian?”

Verita didn’t break Maul’s gaze as one hand covered his and slowly led it down her abdomen to where her skin and his pants met. Her other hand snaked behind Maul’s neck and brought his mouth to hers, tongue pushing his mouth open and rising slightly so his hand slid easily between the juncture of her thighs. 

Maul didn’t say another word as he kissed her back, thumb and forefinger already working her into a tighter state of ecstasy and as the coil grew tighter, her grip on Maul did as well. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact he seemed to relish it as their bodies twined together closer and closer. Verita didn’t know where he ended and she began, all that mattered was the heat and feeling of Maul all around her and Verita threw her head back as the coil snapped and she clenched down hard on Maul’s hand between her legs. Maul simply groaned and pressed open-mouthed kisses to Vertia’s neck and chest as he stroked her through the orgasm.

Breaking apart, Verita slumped heavily against Maul’s chest, content and listening to the sound of his heartbeats working in tandem to keep him alive. Maul pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and murmured, “Nothing matters to me more than you Verita...I will let the world burn before I let anything touch you.”

Sitting up, Verita pressed a kiss to Maul’s lips and said softly, “I would light the torch you used. Never again.”

She kissed him again, and this time, Maul growled softly and wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her flush against him. Verita could feel Maul’s erection pressing into her lower abdomen and her hand began to snake down to his trousers. Maul’s hips bucked involuntarily as Vertia’s fingers brushed his cock and gently freed it from its constraints. Mouth never leaving his, Verita rose up slightly and began to slide down the member, Maul groaning as he began to thrust up into her...

“Brother!”

With a bang, the door slid open and Savage walked into the room, a large case in his arms. Maul involuntarily threw himself forward and Verita scrambled behind Maul, as if she could hide what _Maul’s brother_ had just seen her doing. 

“Get out!” Maul snarled, hands pushing his cock back into his pants. 

Savage for his part looked absolutely mortified and dropped the case, lumbering away as fast as he could. 

Verita’s face was flaming as Maul turned back to her, a wry grin on his face. “Don’t worry, he’s seen worse.”

“I sincerely think none of them have involved his brother,” she snapped, rising from the ground and brushing sand off of her body. Stars, the stuff gets _everywhere…_

Jerking her head toward the case, she asked, “What’s so important Savage brought it here?”

Maul’s lips curled into a smile. It wasn’t his usual sardonic or malicious ones, but a gentle one, one of pride and utter happiness and, with a flick of his fingers, the locks snapped as the lid flew open to reveal…

“My armor,” Verita breathed as she strode forward to look inside. Gone were the chips and cracks of paint that showed the silver metal; it had been repainted in full to the hunter green she knew and loved. Rummaging through, she saw that even her leather belt with her knives were there as well, her beskad laying protectively on top of the craftsmanship. Vertia’s hands clasped around her helmet and she slowly pulled it out. The golden visor reflected her face back to her, distorted and twisted, but Verita could see her eyes and they were full of happiness, determination and love for the man standing behind her. Maul’s silhouette joined hers in the visor’s reflection and he stood silently behind her as she breathed, “How?”

“A certain pawn dealer may have let it slip during a game of Sabacc that he had acquired Mandalorian armor on the market and was rather foolishly and publicly attempting to sell it at exorbitant rates that even the Emperor himself couldn't have afforded. I...persuaded him to give it up, with the promise of protection from my men. If he didn’t...well there was always aggressive negotiations.”

Turning around, helmet still clutched in her grip, Verita simply looked up at Maul and said, “Thank you.” She couldn’t describe just how much this armor meant to her, had meant to her family, but Maul could sense every word caught in her throat as he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“I know _cyar’ika_. Now, let’s go home.”

***

The suns were high overhead by the time Verita and Maul walked out of the palace. It had been a terse farewell to the Hutt, his bulbous eyes half-closed as they passed him still on the dias from the night prior. Verita didn't know if Jabba recognized her with her armor on or not but walked quickly all the same up the steps and into the dry desert air.

Sliding her helmet over her face to protect her eyes from the swirling sand being kicked up by Maul's men loading up the Hutt's goods and taking off to their base…

"Where exactly are we going?" she asked, turning her head slightly to Maul standing beside her, arms crossed as he watched the activity.

"My home...Dathomir."

"Not Mandalore?"

Maul's mouth tightened; clearly Verita had touched a sore spot with him but it didn't matter right now.

"What happened?"

"The Empire," he spat. "After the purge they began consolidating their power wherever they could and Mandalore was the first to fall...the Duchess Satine was executed personally by the Emperor to try and draw Kenobi out of hiding."

"And..?"

"He never showed and no one has seen him since...I thought him dead but I can sense him...somewhere."

"What about any other Jedi? Have they made contact?"

Maul chuckled darkly. "They wouldn't even if they could and for good reason. I control the largest group of scum and villainy that would just as soon sell their mothers for credits, let alone a Jedi. No, it's better if they stay away."

Verita opened her mouth to argue but a gravelly voice broke through the cacophony of ships and cargo.

"Mando!"

Verita and Maul turned to see Cad Bane striding towards them, one hand on his infamous hat to keep it from being ripped off his head in the afterburn of ship exhaust.

"What's he doing here?" Maul growled, hand sliding to the lightsaber clipped to his belt.

Placing a gloved hand over Maul's, Verita was silent until the Duros drew even with the pair of them. She eyed Bane carefully, trying to ignore the growing knot in her stomach. She knew _exactly_ why he was here.

Crossing his arms, Bane looked out from underneath the brim of his hat and said, "We had a deal little lady...I held up my end; time for you to pay up."

"What's he talking about Verita?" Maul snarled. His body was tense, every muscle and nerve acutely directed at the bounty hunter. In contrast, Bane was his usual lithe self, relaxed and seemingly unconcerned that he was courting the ire of not only a Jedi, but a crime lord as well.

Verita sighed and would have pinched the bridge of her nose if the helmet had been off, but said wryly, "I promised Bane a cantono of beskar if he was able to help keep me alive and help me escape."

"And I did, didn't I?" 

"Only by half," Maul growled. "You may have kept her alive, but _I_ freed her." Stepping forward so they were nose-to-nose, Maul said softly, "So you get only half-pay."

Bane's hands drifted toward his LL-30s, and Verita stepped in between, facing Maul and placing her back against Bane.

"Boys, you're both pretty and I can speak for myself." She tilted her helmet toward Maul, ensuring that her clear disdain for his actions was broadcasted loud and clear through the Force. 

He didn't change expression, but stepped back a step to allow Verita to turn and say to Bane, "You're right; a deal is a deal and you held up your end...now I'll hold up mine."

"The only place to get beskar is on Mandalore-" Maul started.

"-then thank goodness we have an actual Mandalorian who knows the planet and city and a bounty hunter who broke into the Jedi Temple going...otherwise I'd actually be concerned."

"But it's under Imperial occupation." Maul seemed bound and determined to win this argument, and Verita could sense the smallest hint of fear in his voice and worked to tamp her own down. She didn't want to leave Maul any more than he did, but Cad Bane was not known for his mercy and she didn't want to spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder for a blaster bolt to the back.

Looking back at the Duros, she jerked her head toward his ship. "Fire up the engines, I'll be along in a minute."

Bane's hat barely concealed the smug look on his face as he tipped it toward Maul and strode back across the dock, long coat snapping in the wind.

Verita turned to see Maul less than a hairsbreadth away, golden eyes blazing and teeth bared.

"You can't possibly be serious about going off with that bounty hunter? He'll just kill you and strip your armor and save himself the trouble that’s to come."

"Do you really think so little of me?" Verita snapped. "Bane might be a bounty hunter with a barely-there moral code, but his greed outweighs any complications between us. Also, if we’re talking technicalities, I've known him far longer than you at this point so I think I have a good handle of my judgement. _And_ I've been on my own longer than I've had you to protect me with your Jedi powers and look where that got me!"

That last phrase came out in a rush of anger and Verita snapped her mouth shut. Anger, shock, and shame played across Maul's features and Verita watched as his usually warm eyes went cold and his face looked as if it had been carved from stone.

"Fine." Even his voice had changed; the timbre of a sleeping dragon that would wake at the slightest provocation, and some long-buried primal fear wormed its way up Verita's spine at the danger in every syllable. 

"Go with your precious bounty hunter," he spat, words laced with venom. "Clearly he can do what I can't and give you what you need...whatever that is." 

Spinning on her heel, Verita strode away from Maul, back stiff and face contorted to hold off the tears of anger and frustration she felt directed at the stiff-necked Jedi. She didn't look back as she boarded Bane's ship and threw herself heavily into the copilot’s chair.

Bane swiveled to face her, a sardonic smile playing across his flat lips.

"Trouble in paradise?"

_"Nar'sheb,"_ she growled. "Let's get this over with."

Bane didn't say another word as, with a shudder, the ship rose from the platform and into the vast emptiness of space. As the stars stretched into the blue-white blaze of hyperspace, Verita couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt at the way she had left things, but all of it paled in comparison to one thing:

She was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Savage you cockblocker
> 
> Nar'sheb: shove it up your ass


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That was the easy part,” Bane growled behind her.
> 
> “You call that easy?” Verita hissed back. 
> 
> “Yeah...now we just have to go down a dark mine shaft crawling with Imps, grab a cantono of beskar and get out before anyone notices.”
> 
> “You’re right...my part was much harder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Mandalore: we have dust, stormtroopers, and a shitload of beskar.

“Over there, fly low.”

Verita pointed to a small crater, one of many that littered the barren planet. Once lush, war had reduced the once-verdant planet a dustball, the citizens on the surface protected only by the many spheres that were littered throughout the planet. She and Bane were heading toward the outskirts of the largest that housed the capital city of Sundari, and Verita restrained herself from craning her neck looking out the viewport as they passed the gunmetal sphere. It had been so long since she had seen her home and fervently wanted to soak it all in, but knew that whatever she saw would be a facade, a warping of everything her people stood for, underneath the thumb of the Empire as they now were.

There had been only one Imperial Star Destroyer orbiting the planet Cad Bane had pulled them out of hyperspace, but Verita knew that there was inevitably a second one somewhere nearby, doubtlessly near Concordia as they had sliced comm channels on their way in and caught chatter from Imperial frequencies detailing a small band of insurgents on the moon that were in need of routing out.

“It’s perfect,” Bane had growled, fingers twiddling with the toothpick in his mouth as they listened. “They’ll be so busy with the fighters they can’t see that they won’t worry about the ones right in front of their faces.”

“And how do you propose they not notice a Duros bounty hunter wanted in every sector from the Mid Rim to Coruscant?”

“Relax little lady.” The Duros had then strode down into the cargo hold of the ship and returned with a set of Mandalorian armor, complete with a helmet. It took every ounce of Verita’s self-control not to punch Bane in the face: he had undoubtedly killed a Mandalorian to acquire the armor (blaster marks were as distinct as fingerprints and the beskar was scored with ones distinct to LL-30s). It wasn’t even the fact that Bane had killed one of her _vod_ , it was that an _aruetyc_ was wearing her people’s armor, a practice reserved solely for full _Mando’ad_ or foundlings in training. It was a perversion of everything she had been raised on and Verita merely snorted when she saw the chipped paint on the beskar. 

“You’ll have to do some retouching there Bane, no true Mandalorian would ever let their armor go to rot like that. You’re either lazy or really bad at fighting to display such armor. Dents, blaster burns, and knife marks are trophies of honor to be worn against the metal, but chipping paint means you don’t care enough about the metal protecting your body to care for it properly.”

She had turned away without another word and Bane didn’t respond, merely taken the armor back to the hold, but Verita had caught the sounds of painting and clanging armor pieces during the trip from Tatooine to Mandalore. She had been determined not to let her thoughts drift to Maul and the way they had left things but it was inevitable. They both had said true, but hurtful things and Verita going with Bane was her trying to avoid confronting the inevitable: she and Maul had changed.

While she still loved the Zabrak, she wasn’t sure just where she stood with him and his new...career. He was different, colder, more calculating, less inclined to humor and more towards rage and it was unsettling. Verita knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but she wondered just how far he was willing to go to get the power he wanted. In all fairness, she had changed too. No longer was she content to be pushed to the side, merely to be a pawn or blind foot soldier in others games as they wrestled for control in this new galaxy. She had worn a collar once and hadn’t taken to it well; instead of making her more tame, or broken, they had merely reforged her, shaped her into a new shell of a person she was still trying to figure out. As the ship settled onto her homeworld’s dust, she wondered if the ground would recognize her as one of their own...a _Mando’ad_ come home.

“I can’t see a thing out of this blasted helmet.” Bane had strode up alongside Verita and was agitatedly fiddling with the chestplate. He actually wore the armor well and it didn’t hurt that the Creed allowed for species of all shapes, sizes, and genders to take the helm of the Mandalore, it was just a matter of how convincingly Bane could play his part. 

Stifling a smile underneath her own helmet, Verita turned and pushed Bane’s hands aside, buckling and locking the pieces properly into place. Slapping her hands against the beskar chest, she said briskly, “Right. The map you got from your... _source_ , had the nearest mining facility about ten clicks west of Sundari. If we move fast, we might be able to catch one of the transports leaving from Sundari to the mines. It’s the only way to get past the checkpoints the Imps have set up and Maker knows what nasty surprises they rigged for anyone not wearing beskar.”

“Let’s go.” Bane strode back to the speeder bike he had unloaded from the holding bay below and straddled the seat, helmeted face jerking toward the seat behind. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one driving? After all, I speak fluent Mando’a and this is my home-”

“-and this is my money we’re talking about. For all intents and purposes, consider yourself hired by me Mandalorian. Now get on.”

Biting back every swear word in every language she knew, Verita clambered on behind the bounty hunter, wrapping her arms around his slim frame. She knew better than to pick every fight and this one she wasn’t going to win...she had bigger plans than who got to drive the bike as it roared across the desert. 

They didn’t see another living soul until they reached one of the four entrances to Sundari that were located on the four basic compass points of the sphere. Two white-armored stormtroopers guarded the door, looking more than slightly bored, but straightened as the pair came into view.

“Halt.” One of them raised his hand and Bane killed the bike, the roar dulling to a low rumble. 

“Let’s see some ID now hmmm?” The other trooper walked to the opposite side of the bike, hand sidling over the trigger of his blaster. 

“Of course.” Sliding her helmet off her head, Verita caught the subtlest shift in the trooper’s body language as they saw her face. It was enough. 

With a grunt, her booted foot kicked out at the trooper holding the gun and, opposite her, Bane tackled the other. They went down in a flurry of fists and grunts, but Verita didn’t focus on them as she launched herself at the startled grunt. He didn’t have time to react as her hand wrapped around the black neckseal at the trooper’s throat, his shout turning to a strangled gurgle as her gauntlet blade activated and slid smoothly into skin. He dropped silently, blood hidden by the black, and the sand beneath his body grew dark. 

Turning back to Bane, she saw the Duros had wrapped the other in a macabre parody of an embrace, one forearm wrapped around his throat, the trooper scrabbling desperately behind him to try and gain a handhold against his attacker. The beskar didn’t budge as, with a grunt and crack, the trooper went limp, and Bane tossed the body away from him.

“Let’s go. It’ll be hours before the next check-in and we’ll be long gone before anyone discovers the bodies.” He jumped back on the bike and Verita clambered back on. The bike roared to life once more as they sped down the dimly lit tunnel that led to the city above.

***

Sundari was both the same as and different than Verita remembered. The abstract architecture of the city still floated impossibly in and around the domed environment, the myriad of glass reflecting the sunlight and bouncing the fractals until they made a dizzying display that shifted with every step you took. Iron hearts were hidden everywhere; the secret symbols of a people that did not forget the living or the dead and would not bow to outsiders, no matter their armor.

Stormtroopers patrolled every walkway, with larger AT-ST walkers above and below the cityscape. They were an ugly contrast to the elegant lines of the city and Verita was thankful for her helmet as her lips pulled back in a snarl. Gar Saxon was prime minister of the planet, a puppet on a string for the Emperor to tug on as he pleased. He was also one of the former members of Death Watch that had boarded Verita’s ship as a teen and watched as her parents were executed. Verita still remembered the man’s hands locking her arms in a vise as she wrenched uselessly as her parents were cut down by the black blade of her people: the Darksaber. She wanted her revenge, but wasn’t stupid; she’d bide her time and until then, take satisfaction in taking a bit back. 

“This way.” She pulled on Bane’s flight vest and the leonine alien followed silently behind. This was her area of expertise and he’d be a fool not to take advantage of her knowledge. 

They reached one of the city’s loading docks and shuffled into the crowd, blending smoothly into the traffic flow that led to one of the skiffs that would take workers down into the mines where the beskar was harvested. 

Beskar was a tricky metal. It was a mix of two as-of-yet unknown composite metals that were useless alone, but somehow combined and folded into each other over the course of years to transform. While machines and droids could do the work of finding and building the mines, it took actual manual labor to excavate and process the ore according to the ancient traditions of their people. It was a job that many had taken on with pride, a way to serve their planet and people outside of the traditional warrior path, but the Empire had twisted it into servitude, a job made to do one thing: produce and quickly. Beskar wasn’t just what made Mandalorian armor; it could be used to build ships and weapons that were nearly indestructible and Verita’s gut twisted at the thought of the metal being used against her people and the galaxy. 

_Focus. One battle at a time._

Striding toward the skiff, she and Bane were stopped by another pair of helmeted troopers, blasters pointed directly at them.

“Halt. Why are you two down here? Shouldn’t you both be at the palace?”

Verita scoffed a laugh. “This one,” she said, jerking her finger back toward Bane, “Didn’t like the way one of the other _vod_ was looking at him, so we’re taking a walk to cool off.”

The trooper chuckled slightly and Verita’s shoulders relaxed for a second as he said, “You do know this takes you down to the mines right? No one likes going there.”

“This one does. Raised in caves like a gundark he was...makes him feel relaxed and at home. Besides, Saxon gave us the all-clear.” Verita flipped a few credits out of her pocket and the trooper caught them, sliding them into a pouch on his belt.

“Right. You have one hour and then we’ll be coming for you.”

“Thanks boys, I knew you were alright.”

Verita stepped onto the skiff, Bane behind her. The workers on board gave the two helmeted Mandalorians a wide berth, although Verita caught a few giving her dirty looks and more than one eyeing them up and down, as though debating how much trouble it would be worth to fight them and strip them for spare parts.

“That was the easy part,” Bane growled behind her.

“You call that easy?” Verita hissed back. 

“Yeah...now we just have to go down a dark mine shaft crawling with Imps, grab a cantono of beskar and get out before anyone notices.”

“You’re right...my part was much harder.”

***

The mines were dark, dirty, and well...mines. Verita hadn’t been in any prior but imagined they were all the same and didn’t have the feeling of missing out as they stepped off the skiff with the other workers. A dim orange glow seemed to ensconce the entire area, throwing shadows and people into sharp relief. Steam billowed sporadically from where machines dug deep into the planet’s core for the precious metal and it combined with the lighting made Verita feel that she was in some sort of afterlife hell she particularly did not want to partake in. The stormtroopers patrolling the walkways looked to be this hell’s version of demons, crackling stunpikes snapping in and out of existence as they caught slacking or slower workers. 

Verita had to push down the urge to snap each of the trooper’s necks in turn as they passed them on the walkway. For their part, the soldiers got out of the way, their armor alone speaking to a privilege that the troopers, for all their power, lacked, and the duo made their way quickly and unmolested through the work area and into quieter administration corridors. Bane had received a detailed holoschematic of the facility and knew exactly where the safe holding processed and refined beskar lay, ready to be shipped to smelting facilities to be forged and shaped into their intended purpose. 

They reached a black slate door, same as all the others in the hall, and Bane ran a hand down the crease in the wall.

“This is it.”

Drawing her knives, Verita turned her back to the bounty hunter and activated her scanners. She could see a few feet through each wall and the curved hallway made it so she could see someone coming before they saw her.

“Hurry up.”

The Duros crouched in front of the keypad and, with a violent jerk, ripped it out of its paneling. Verita knew he had seconds before the alarm would activate and bring the troopers running, unless Bane rewired it to the all-clear. A few breathless seconds later, the keypad went from red to green and Verita exhaled softly, eyes never stopping from roaming the hallway for an instant.

“Come on, what’s taking so long.”

“I’m trying,” Bane hissed. “The keypad is in Mando’a instead of the usual Basic, it’s going to take a second for me to translate.”

“Oh for kriff’s sake.”

Verita turned and looked over the bounty hunter’s shoulder.

“C-5-9-S-T-3-K-Y.” She punctuated each word with a press of keys and, with barely a hiss, the door slid open and her mouth dropped.

Stacks upon stacks of beskar, enough to make armor for every citizen on the planet, with enough left over for weapons lay before her and Verita removed her helmet, eyes beginning to blur with tears. 

_This is what we have become, mindless rats in a game that serves no other purpose than to exploit us for what we can give up as opposed to what we can give._

Picking up a brick, she rotated it in hand. The dark and light lines of the opposing metal, weak when apart, but strong together, glinted dully in the dim lighting and Verita felt as if the metal could sense one of the true daughters of Mandalore was there, the brick warming in her hands.

“Let’s go.” Bane leaned heavily to one side, the off-white cantono clinking quietly with the metal, and Verita pocketed the one she held, sliding her helmet back over her face as they exited the vault. 

The corridor was empty and they passed unchallenged for the most part, a few trooper’s helmets turning in silent question as the cantono clinked with Bane’s movements. Verita didn’t know if they were too afraid or too lazy to stop them as they clambered back onto the skiff. For her part, Verita didn’t let her hands drift more than a few centimeters away from the handles at her waist, even as the darkness faded and the light of Sundari came into view. 

Disembarking, the duo began walking back to where they had left the speeder, when alarms started to blare.

_“Shab.”_

“Don’t worry, it’s probably not about us.”

“There they are!” 

Verita whirled to see a stormtrooper with a pauldron marking him as squad leader pointing directly at them.

“It’s definitely about us. Run!” 

She took off into a dead sprint, Bane kicking his boots into gear. The repulsors pushed him above Verita and much further forward. That was good, the trooper’s eyes would be drawn to him and hopefully allow her a chance to slink away and grab a shuttle to escape. 

A blaster bolt shot past her helmet and shattered a statue directly in front of her. 

“Guess not,” she grumbled and ducked into a side alley, blasterfire erupting behind her. Vertia kept running, legs pumping, mindless adrenaline coursing through her. She knew this city, had grown up in it, and suddenly took a flying leap up to one of the many fractaled buildings in the city. Verita’s fingers caught a ledge and she scrambled up the side, pressing her body flat against the walls as she reached up and behind for the next ledge. The troopers chasing her had fanned out along the streets and were methodically working their way up and down the area, trying to ascertain where the green Mandalorian woman had gone. It worked to her advantage that she carried no visible jetpack or form of repulsor...it would take them a while to look up. Most quarry never did and Verita had learned to use that to her advantage. 

She waited silently, crouched on the ledge like a nexu about to leap, and watched as a single stormtrooper walked down the alleyway directly below her.

“Come to momma.”

She lept, knives held out on either side of her like the wings of some long-forgotten bird of prey, and landed directly on the trooper. His blaster fired and the shot echoed through the empty alley, but that was the only sound he made as Verita’s blades crossed his throat.

Wiping the blades against her pants, she said, “You know, they’ve really got to work on that design flaw.”

“There she is!”

Blasterfire erupted again, and Verita spun, snatching the fallen E-11 from where it had been flung in her violent landing on the trooper, and fired. The shots went wide, but were enough of a distraction for Verita to take off running again. This time, she wasn’t able to outrun them. More had joined the hunt and the streets were swarming with Imps, trigger-happy and ready to fire at anyone that looked to be remotely wearing Mandalorian armor. 

Verita kept moving. It was the only thing she had left in her arsenal as she sporadically shot unlucky troopers that got in her way. The northern docks were only a few clicks away, maybe-

A searing pain shot through her side and Verita hissed as she saw part of her flight vest burned away, a troop’s lucky shot grazing the one area not protected by beskar. 

_“Shabuir.”_ The pain was searing and Vertia bit her cheek so hard she tasted blood, but kept moving. She had clambered her way up the rooftops and was aiming for the steel girders that criss-crossed the entirety of the city, holding up the dome that protected the city’s inhabitants from the harsh environment outside. 

With a leap, Verita landed heavily against the metal, chest slamming into the immovable object. The wind rushed out of her and her side screamed in agony, but she clambered up the narrow beam and began running. She could see the troops like ants below, frantically shouting for air support, but the beams were so tightly-packed it would be impossible to fit any ship they had at their disposal into the confined quarters, so blaster bolts flew around her; too far away to do any serious damage, but enough of a nuisance that Verita had to deliberately concentrate with every step she took. She was getter closer and closer to the shipyard...almost there-

She barely ducked in time. The scream was her only warning as a gauntlet-missile shot overhead, flying past where her head had been seconds before. Verita’s steps stuttered and then skidded to a halt as a red-and-white clad Mandalorian landed directly in front of her.

“Saxon,” she snarled and, even though she couldn’t see his face, he shifted slightly, as if in surprise.

“Do I know you?” His voice was distorted through the modulator but was no less cold and cruel than Verita remembered that night years ago as she watched her parent’s deaths.

“You stole something _ad'ika_ , that isn’t very befitting of one wearing our armor.”

“You are a disgrace to your armor and our people,” Verita spat, pulling her blades out as she spoke.

Saxon chuckled, “I think many people would disagree with you on that matter.” Waving a hand toward the city, he continued, “The Empire has brought stability and peace to our world, where for years we were nothing more than pack wolves tearing each other apart. Now, under our glorious Emperor’s new reign, we will be a united and strong Mandalore once more.”

Vertia barked a laugh. “Is that what he told you? I’m sure the Emperor would have promised us the entire Mid Rim if it meant putting Mandalore firmly under his thumb; you forget that even during the height of the war, our people would not be subdued...even though the Duchess Kryze tried her very best to do so.”

Saxon growled low. “The Duchess was weak, and allowed the Jedi and Republic to interfere in matters better left to Mandalore and its people. Now...the Republic is gone, the Jedi dead, and Mandalore remains.” 

His words struck an uncomfortable chord in Verita. How many times had she watched holovids of the war from the Unknown Regions and wished that she could be there, fighting and making a difference to liberate her people? Being sent to Coruscant and her subsequent meeting with Maul allowed her to feel for once in her life that she mattered and that something akin to peace was possible for her people…

She really should have known better.

“The difference between you and me Saxon,” Verita said slowly, “Is that I don’t have to hide behind an old man in a cloak to achieve my goals.”

Throwing an arm in front of her, fire blazed to life at the end of her wrist and Saxon bent double, flames licking his backplate. Verita rushed the older man, blades humming through the air. 

The metal sang as Saxon’s gauntlet whipped up to stop the blow. Tilting his helmet up, he growled, “You still have much to learn _aruetii_.” 

With a grunt, Verita’s arm was shoved underneath and behind her, and she hissed as tendons and muscles stretched, but refused to drop the blade. Saxon arched his back and she screamed as bone snapped. Verita nearly blacked out from the pain, but caught her footing and scrambled backwards on the narrow beam, cradling the broken bone against her chest as the other still held the knife out in front of her.

Saxon straightened and tilted his head. The effect was ghoulish and the narrow slits in his visor reflected Verita’s own helmet back at her, distorted and warped. 

“Where have I seen you before?”

“I expect you’ve killed so many people it’s hard to keep track,” she spat between clenched teeth. Her arm was throbbing and it was beginning to go numb, never a good sign. Somehow, she had managed to keep ahold of her knife, although she could feel the hilt beginning to slide through her fingers as the numbness spread from her fingertips to her hand.

“Ahh...I know.” Stepping forward, one hand held out in front of him as if Verita were no more than a wild animal to be calmed, Saxon said slowly, “You're Kath and Ida’s daughter aren't you? I remember their deaths as if it were yesterday, but had forgotten all about their little whelp...nice to see treason runs in the family.”

“I’ll kill you,” Verita snarled and Saxon chuckled darkly, drawing his blaster as he did.

“Stubborn to the last...you would have made a fine addition to our army _ad’ika_.”

“I’d rather die.”

“There are fates worse than death, and can assure you, I am familiar with them all.”

Saxon raised the blaster and Verita braced herself for a final charge at the man, her thoughts not full of vengeance, but regret.

_Maul? Maul...I am so sorry._

The entire framework shuddered and Verita lost her footing. Reflexively, her hand shot out and caught nothing but air, her body in a free-fall toward the ground below…

With a jerk, her body stopped and Verita heard a familiar gravelly voice hiss into her helmet, “As much as it would’ve been a clean way to make your death look like an accident, I don’t much care for looking over my shoulder for a lightsaber the rest of my life.”

“Cad Bane. I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d be happy to see you.”

“First and last time little lady. Let’s go.”

Bane made to rise, but there was a shout and Verita suddenly found them careening sideways: straight toward the transparisteel that encased the city. Glass was no match for beskar as the pair exploded out into the desert, shards and blaster bolts following the chaotic trajectory. 

“We’re going down!” Bane shouted and with a sputtering of repulsorlifts, they hit the sand. 

It was like slamming into concrete. The wind rushed out of Verita and she heard a sharp snap as her side hit the ground. Her momentum carried her a few more meters, in which a searing pain shot up her side with every roll, and another cracking sound came from the opposing side of her abdomen. Finally skidding to a halt, she looked with bleary eyes through her visor. The helmet had protected her head from the worst of the impact, but her gaze still shifted in and out of focus as she stood and turned slowly to where Bane was rising stiffly as well. He was clutching his side, helmet gone, red eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon for any persusers. 

Finding none, the pair stumbled blindly back to the ship, a miracle only possible because Verita’s HUD had recorded their landing site and saved it to her helmet’s internal map. There didn’t look to be any Imperial pursuers, which disturbed the pair of hunters more than any actual skirmish would have. 

“We’re gonna have to take the long way back to your Jedi,” Bane rumbled as he punched in the coordinates for their jump. “Wanna shake off any potential trouble.”

“How kind,” Verita mumbled, dropping heavily into the seat beside him. Her left arm was definitely broken, shoulder dislocated, a few ribs as well, and judging by the ringing in her ears, had a concussion. Bane didn’t look much better: new scratches and viscous, green blood seeped from various cuts and he was holding himself stiffly, as if he had broken a rib or two as well.

“You going to be alright? I’m sure there are med supplies on Dathomir-.”

“I’m fine,” Bane snapped as he pulled the double hyperdrive levers.

“Of course you are.”

***

Bane dumped her with little ceremony on the outskirts of the compound. He didn’t say much, just a grunt of acknowledgement for a job done, but Verita couldn’t help but say, “Don’t worry Bane, I’ll make sure you’re not forgotten.”

His red eyes narrowed at the implied threat, but had merely tipped his hat and took off, leaving Verita clutching her helmet and turning to face the red swamp planet. It looked just as uninviting as it did from orbit and the stifling humidity had Verita immediately coated with a sheen of sweat she felt was going to become a familiar second skin as she began walking across the soft earth. Strange red trees twisted and gnarled above her, with large sack-like seeds? fruit? hanging sporadically from the canopy. While Verita wasn’t Force-sensitive by any means, she thought she could feel the ancient malice and power that oozed from the planet’s core. Maul had described his world to her once, and maybe that was what was clouding her judgement as she stepped from the mist and before a towering castle built directly into a sheer cliff face. 

A face had been carved into the stonework, eyes and mouth serving as doors and windows, and Verita shuddered. It wasn’t a welcoming expression, but one of ancient greed and hunger, mouth open wide to swallow any living thing whole. If the purpose was meant to intimidate and frighten, it worked well and Verita had to take a few, shallow breaths before continuing forward. Her arm was still broken and her ribs were as well, Bane’s ship not having any medical supplies on board, save for a shot of bacta to stave off any infection. The longer the arm went without proper placing, the higher the chance it would set improperly and have to be rebroken, a thought not comforting to Verita. 

She was nearly to the mouth (or entrance, whatever it was), when a voice called, “Stop! Hands where I can see them!”

Verita raised her right arm, sliding the hand behind her helmeted face to where her captor could see.

“The other one too!”

Turning slowly, she said, “It’s broken-”

A blast of blue filled her vision and she collapsed senseless to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww fuck, who's gonna tell Maul about this? Also, Cad Bane's such an asshole...I love him
> 
> Mando'a: 
> 
> Aruetyc: outsider
> 
> Ad'ika: little one
> 
> Aruetii: traitor, foreigner, outsider


End file.
